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*  • 


AUTHOR: 


EPICTETUS 


'^il 


TITLE: 


THE  TEACHING  OF 

EPICTETUS:  BEING 


PLACE: 


NEW  YORK 


DATE: 


1889 


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"  Works.  Eng.  if 
Epictettis.      I 

The  teachinc  of  Epiotetust  being  the  "Enc 
dion  of  Epiototus"  with  aoleotions  fron  tho"m   . 
tations"  and  "Fraenonts*.  Jr.  fron  the  Creek,  v/ith! 
introduction  and  notes,  by  T.  W.  Rolleston. 
New  York,  Alden,  1889. 

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From  the  library  of 

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Director  of  the  School  of  Journalism 

1912-1919 


THE    TEACIING    OF 
EPICTETUS : 


BEING  THE  "  ENCHEIRIDION  OF  EPICTETUS/'  WITH 
SELECTIONS  FRO:\I  THE  "DISSERTATIONS 
AND  "FRAGMENTS/' 


11 


TRAKSLATED  FROM  THE  GREEK, 

WITH  INTRODUCTION  AND  NOTES,  BY 

T.    W.    ROLLESTON. 


NEW  YOEK  : 

JOHN  B.  ALDEJSr,  PUBLISHEE. 

1889. 


Y'/xJlxM^       'yO*^^^^ 


..^tyf 


All  religions  urge  to  this,  that  Man  should  busy  him- 
self with  the  inevitable ;  every  one  seeks  in  his  own 
fashion   to  make   himself  master  of  this  problem. 

— Goethe. 

TJie  book  of  Epictetus,  the  noblest  of  the  Stoics, 

—St.  Augustine. 


^ 


CONTENTS. 


PAOB. 

Introduction ix 

Cleanthes^  Htmn  to  Zeus 88 

BOOK  I. 

CHAPTER. 

I.    The  Beginning  of  Philosophy 85 

11.    On  the  Natural  Conceptions 38 

m.    The  Master-Faculty 40 

IV.    TheNatureof  the  Good...   42 

V.    The  Promise  of  Philosophy 44 

VI.    The  Way  of  PhUosophy 45 

Vn.    To  the  Learner 48 

Vm.    TheCynic 51 

BOOK  II.       . 

I.    On  Genuine  and  Borrowed  Belief s 66 

II.    The  Game  of  Life 71 

III.    Things  are  what  they  are 74 

rv.    Three  steps  to  Perfection 76 

V.    That  a  Man  may  be  both  Bold  and  Fearful 78 

VI.    The  Wise  Man's  Fear  and  the  FooPs 82 

VII.    Appearances  False  and  True 83 

vm.    How  we  should  Think  as  God's  Offspring 86 

IX.    The  Open  Poor 91 

X.    KnowThyself 93 

-  XI.    How  we  should  Bear  Ourselves  towards  Evil  Men 98 

XII.    The  Voyage  of  Life 100 

Xm.    The  Mark  of  Effort 100 

XIV.    Faculties 104 

XV.    Returns 104 

XVI.    The  Price  of  Tranquillity 104 

X\aL    AChoice .' 105 

XVin.    That  where  the  Heart  is  the  Bond  is 105 

XIX.    That  we  Lament  not  from  within 107 

XX.    That  a  Man  may  Act  his  Part  but  not  Choose  it 107 

XXI.    Distinctions .  109 

XXII.    That  a  Man  is  Sufficient  to  Himself 110 

XXIIL    That  Every  Man  Fulfil  his  Own  Task 110 

XXIV.    The  World's  Price  for  the  World's  Worth 112 

XXV.    Aims  of  Nature 113 

XXVL    The  Mind's  Security 113 

iXXVn.    That  a  Man  should  be  One  Man 1J3 


CO^TEM'S, 
«..^  ^OOK  III. 

1.    Obligations ^^^^g 

n.    Against  Epicurus ne 

III.    Against  the  Epicureans  and  Academics 118 

On  Slavery 

To  the  Administrator  of  the  Free  Citiesrwho  w^  an 

Epicurean 

On  Statecraft 

OuFriendship J^ 

Time  and  Change       .^ 

OnSolitude 


IV. 

V. 


VI. 

vn. 
vni. 

IX. 
X. 


122 

123 
128 


I. 

n. 
m. 

IV. 
V. 


.  ,  . .  142 

Agamst  the  Contentious  and  Revengeful. 145 

BOOK  IV. 

Of  Religion -^^ 

Of  Providence 

Of  Providence 

God  in  Man 

Of  Divination 


150 
153 
155 
159 


I. 

n. 
m. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

vn. 
vin. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

xn. 
xm. 

XIV 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

:xvm. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 

xxn. 

XXTTI. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

Notes 

Notes  on 
Index  of 


BOOK  V. 

The  Behavior  of  a  Philosopher 

On  Habit \\..\\  .\ 

On  Disputation 

That  we  should  be  Slow  in  Accepting  Pleasure  ........ 

That  we  should  be  Open  in  om-  Dealings 

ThatHalf  True  may  be  All  False 

That  Each  Man  Play  his  Own  Part. . .   '..!.!!!  M .  ^ 
That  we  should  be  Careful  of  the  Soul  as  of  the  Body 

The  Measure  of  Gain 

The  Worth  of  Women. 

A  Dull  Nature 

Of  Adornment  of  the  Person W'..... '.'.... 

Why  we  should  Bear  with  Wrong ...... . . . . ', . . .  \,\\ . . , .' " 

That  Everything  hath  Two  Handles . . .  .*  '. . . . . . . . ' . . .  * . . . 

On  Cei-tain  False  Conclusions ..!!.. 

Perception  and  Judgment \ 

That  the  Philosopher  shall  Exhibit  to  the  Vulgar  Deeds, 

not  Words 

Ascesis 

Tokens 

That  the  Logical  Art  is  Necessary ..  ... 

Granmiarian  or  Sage * 

Accomplishments 

Constancy \ 

How  Long  ? 

Pai-ts  of  Philosophy ..........  ........... 

Memorabilia 


IT^TRODUCTION. 


But  for  the  zeal  and  ability  of  one  disciple  we 
should  not  now  possess  any  trustworthy  account 
of  the  teaching  of  Epictetus.  For,  like  not  a  few 
other  sages,  he  wrote  nothing — his  teaching  was 
purely  oral,  delivered  in  the  form  of  lectures  or 
discourses,  to  the  students  who  came  to  him  to 
receive  their  education  in  philosophy.  One  of 
these  students  was  Flavins  Arrianus,  afterwards 
Senator  and  Consul  of  Kome,  named  by  Lucian 
"one  among  the  first  of  Koman  men,''  and 
known  to  ns  chiefly  as  author  of  the  best  history 
of  Alexander  the  Great  which  was  produced  in 
antiquity.  That  history  is  still  extant,  but  pos- 
terity ow^es  Arrian  still  more  abundant  thanks 
for  the  copious  notes  of  the  teaching  of  Epicte- 
tus which  he  took  down  from  his  master's  lips  in 
Nicopolis.  This  record  he  afterwards  published 
in  eight  books  (whereof  only  four  now  remain), 
entitled  the  Dissertations  of  Epictetus  ;  and  out 
of  these  he  drew  the  materials  for  compiling  the 
little  work,  the  Eiicheiridion,  o?  Manual,  of 
Epictetus,  by  which  this  philosopher  has  hitherto 
been  most  generally  known. ^ 

It  is  clear  that  the  Dissertations  were  not  re- 
garded by  Arrian  as  a  satisfactory  representation 
of  the  teaching  of  his  master ;  that  he  published 
them,  indeed,"w4th  much  reluctance,  and  only 
wlien  it  appeared  that  unless  he  did  so,  certain 
imperfect  versions  of  his  records  would  be  estab- 
lished as  the  sole  sources  of  authoritative  infor- 

1  The  Encheiridion  of  Epictetus,  Translated  into  English  by  T.  W. 
RoUeston.    Kegan  Paul,  Trench  &  Co.,  1881. 


«i 


*  INTRODUCTION, 

Tufi  M?„  *  dedicatorj  letter  to  las  friend 
i^cius  (^ellins,  prefixed  to  the  edition  of  tho 
DxssertaUonB  wlncli  Arrian  finally  resolved  tn 
issue.    I  here  translate  this  docume^nt TS:- 

;;  Arrian  to  Lucius  Gellius,  hail. 
1  did  not  write  [in   literary  form  and  pom 
position,  suggraph^i,^-^  the  wordsTf  Enictetus 
n  a  manner  in  which  a  n.an   might  wS  such 

i^^^sincf  as  rJ"7  \r  ^''^'"  f-tHm't 
men,  since,  as  I  say,  I  did  not  even  write  thpm 

But.whatever  I  heard  him  speak,  those  things  f 

endeavored  to  set  down  in  his  very  words  sf  to 

reserve  to  nyself  for  future  timers  a  memorial 

of  his  thought    and  unstudied   speecl     Xtn 

rally  therefore,  they  are  such  thinS  one  m^^^^^ 

night  say  to  another  on  the  occasion  of  the  mo 

nent,  not  such  as  he  would  putto-e  l^erw^h  hi' 

tey:  e'S!  S'^"  ]'^  aft^ni^'such 
wiey  are,  and  1  know  not  how  without  mv  x^\\\ 

or  knowledge  they  fell  among  men  EuTto  me 
It  18  no  great  matter  if  I  shalUppear  unenual  to 
composing  such  a  work,  and  toTpictS  non^ 
at  all  If  anyone  shall  despise  hisXo«iS"for 
when  he  spoke  it,  it  was  evident  that  he  had  buf 
one  a,m-to  stir  the  minds  of  his  heaL^  towards 

writtf  s  3%^         ^''  ^"^f  ^'  *'-  --dsXr: 
wmten  snonld  do  the  same,  then  thev  will  /In  T 

t^i.uk  that  which  the  words  of  sages  ouSt  to  do 

S'?*  \f  "«t,  yet  let  those  who  read  tS  knfw 

his,  that  when  he  himself  spoke  then    ,>Ja 

pe  Japs  It  could  not  have  been  otherwise?  Fare: 
The  style  of  the  Dissertatiom,  as  they  have 


TNfRObVCftON. 


XI 


reached  iis,  answers  very  well  to  the  above  ac- 
count of  their  origin  and  purpose.  They  con- 
tain much  that  the  world  should  be  as  little  will- 
ing to  neglect  as  anything  that  Greek  philosophy 
has  left  us ;  but  they  contain  also  many  repeti- 
tions, redundancies,  incoherencies  ;  and'^are  abso- 
lutely devoid  of  any  sort  of  order  or  system  in 
their  arrangement.  Each  chapter  has  generally 
something  of  a  central  theme,  but  beyond  this  all 
is  chaos.  The  same  theme  will  be  dwelt  on 
again  and  again  in  almost  the  same  phrases ;  ut- 
terances of  ^  majestic  wisdom  are  embedded  in 
pages  of  tedious  argument,  and  any  grouping  of 
the  chapters  according  to  a  progressive  sequence 
of  ideas  will  be  looked  for  in  vain. 

Under  these  conditions  it  was  evident  that  the 
teaching  of  Epictetus  could  never  win  half  the 
influence  which  its  essentia)  qualities  fitted  it  to 
exercise.  And  accordingly,  as  another  and  bet- 
ter vehicle  for  this  influence,  Arrian  compiled 
and  condensed  from  the  Dissertations  the  small 
handbook  of  the  Stoic  philosophy  known  as  the 
Encheiridion  of  Epictetus.  This  little  work  has 
made  Epictetus  known  to  very  many  whom  the 
Dissertations  w^ould  never  have  reached.  It  had 
the  distinction — unparalleled  in  tlie  case  of  any 
other  Pagan  writing,  if  we  except  the  doubtful 
Sentential  of  Xystus— of  being  adopted  as  a 
religious  work  in  the  early  Christian  Church. 
Two  paraphrases  of  it — still  extant— one  of 
which  was  specially  designed  for  the  use  of 
monastic  bodies,  were  produced  about  the  sixth 
century  a.  d.,  in  which  'very  few  changes  were 
made  in  the  text,  beyond  the  alteration  of  Pagan 
names  and  allusions  to  Scriptural  ones. 

About  the  same  time  it  was  made  the  subject 
of  an  elaborate  and  lengthy  commentary  by  a 
pagan  writer,  Simplicius,  Avherein  chapter  after 
chapter  is  dissected,  discussed,  and  explained.  It 
was  elegantly  rendered  into  Latin  by  the  well- 


f 


tn 


tNTilODUCflOif. 


mfttdWOTtoN. 


xm 


known  scholar  of  the  Eenaissance,  An^elo  Pol^ 
;^n,  who  dedicated  his  translation  to  Lorenzo  de- 
Medici.  Down  to  the  present  day,  as  nnnierong 
translations  testify,  it  has  remained  the  most 
usual  means  of  access  to  the  thought  of  Epic- 
tetus.  ^ 

But  inestimable  as  the  Encheiridion  is,  he  wlio 
knows  It  alone  has  gained  nothing  like  all  that 
Lpictetus  has  to  give.     It  is  a  compendium  ;  and 
although  much  more  stirring  and  forcible  than  is 
usual  with  such  works,  it  cannot  give    us   the 
wealth  of  interesting  allusion,  sustained  reflec- 
tion, the  bursts  of  eloquence,  the  abrupt  and  bit- 
ing style,  the  vivid  revelations  of  personal  char- 
acter, which  marked  the  teaching  of  Epictetus 
in  the  form  in  which  he  delivered  it.     It  seems, 
therefore,  that  to  make  him  as  accessible  as  he 
can  be  to  those  for  whom  such  things  Jiave  any 
value  or  interest,  it  were  necessarv  to  produce 
from  the  Encheiridion  and   the  Dissertations  a 
third  work,  which  should  have  the  advantages  of 
each.     This  is  what  I  have  endeavored  to   do  in 
the  present  work.     In  it  the  whole  of  the  En- 
ckezrtdionis  given,  and  the  divisions  of  subiect- 
matter  into  which  the  Encheiridion  falls  have 
been  observed  by  the  division  of  my  translation 
into  hve  Books,  corresponding  with  the  natural 
divisions  of  the  Encheiridiori— Book  I.,  treatin^r 
of  the  first  princples  of  the  Stoic  philosophv"; 
Book  II.,  dealing  with  the  general   application 
ot    these   principles    to  life ;  Book   III.,   with 
man  s    relations  to  his  fellow-man  ;  Book  lY 
with  his  relations  to  God ;  Book  V.,  containing' 
besides  a  couple  of  concluding  chapters,  chiefly 
practical  counsels  of  behavior  on  various  com- 
mon occasions,  and  obiter  dicta  on  the  use  of  the 
faculties.     Such  is   tlie   scheme  of  arrangement 
suggested    by  the  Encheiridion;    and  1   have 
filled   it  in  by  setting  among  the  chapters  of  the 
Encheiridion  chapters  or  passages  from  the  Dis- 


sertations^ selected  from  their  relevancy  to  the 
matter  in  hand.  In  fact,  I  have  reversed  the 
process  by  which  the  Encheiridion  came  into 
being.  It  was  condensed  out  of  the  Disserta- 
tions: I  have  expanded  it  again  by  drawing  into 
it  a  large  quantity  of  material  from  the  original 
work,  and  subjecting  the  new  matter  thus  gained 
to  the  system'  and  order  of  sequence  which  I 
found  to  prevail  in  the  Encheiridion.  The  pas- 
sages or  chapters  taken  from  the  Dissertations  are 
those  which  seemed  to  me  most  characteristic  of 
the  philosophy  or  the  personality  of  Epictetus, 
and  I  have  made  it  my  aim  to  omit  nothing  which 
is  essential  to  a  f  ull.and  clear  understanding  of  the 
message  he  had  to  deliver  to  his  generation.  Of 
course  there  is  plenty  of  room  for  differences  of 
opinion  as  to  the  manner  in  which  this  conception 
has  been  carried  out ;  but  I  hope  that  the  present 
attempt  may  do  something  to  win  a  larger  audi- 
ence for  his  teaching  than  former  editions  could, 
in  the  nature  of  the  case,  obtain.  If  this  hope 
should  prove  to  be  well  founded,  I  shall  expect, 
some  day,  to  give  the  present  English  version  a 
counterpart  in  a  Greek  text  arranged  on  the  same 

lines. 

I  may  add  here  that  the  reader  w411  find  an 
Index  at  the  end  of  this  volume,  in  which  every 
paragraph  is  referred  to  its  original  source  in  the 
Dissertations^  Encheiridion^  or  Fragments— t\\e 
references  applying  to  Schweighauser's  standard 
edition  of  Epictetus.^ 

As  regards  the  style  of  my  translation,  I  hope 

1  Epicteti  Dissertationum  ab  Arriano  Di{?estarum  Libri  IV.  et  ex 
Deperditis  Sermotiibus  Fragmenta.  Post  lo.  Uptoni  aliorumque 
curas  denuo  ad  Codicum  Mastorum  fidum  receiisuit,  Latina  Ver- 
sione,  Adnotationibus,  Indlcibus  illustravit  Johannes  Sch weigh auser. 

Lipsiae.    MDCCXCIX.  .     ^  ^  ,      ^  .  r    ^.         a  v.«, 

Epicteti   Manuale  et   Cebetis  Tabula   Graece  et  Latine.    Schw. 

MDCCX(/VIII. 

There  are  two  excellent  EngUsh  translations  of  the  whole  extant 
works  of  Epictetus— one  by  Mrs.  Carter,  published  in  the  last  cen- 
tury, the  other  by  the  late  George  Long,  M.A.  (Bohn  Series),  to  both 
of  which,  but  especially  the  latter,  I  desire  to  record  my  great 
obligations. 


f 


!l 


XiV 


INTRODUCTION. 


¥ 


the  tinge  of  archaism  I  liave  dven  it  will  be  felt 

varied,  so  flexible  even  down  to  its  use  of  vari 

ous  grammatical  forms,  so  well  suited  alike  to 

colloquy,  or  argument,  or  satire,  or  impassioned 

eloquence  as  Elizabethan  En-lish         "P^""'^^^^ 

So  much  to  make  the  plan^f  the  present  work 

understood ;  and  the  reader  nmj  pLhaps  S 

tl  at  I  woiild  now  leave  him  to  the\stud^y  of  i 

Lut  there  is  much  in  Epictetus  the  significance 

of  which  will  not  appear  to  anyone  wlfo  is  unac^ 

pli^whiVlTf  ''''  fT'f  'P'^'^  ''  ^'^^  V^' 
tLhtf  ^r]i,^^^  ^f «  of  ^Pictetus's  ethical 
teaching.  And  I  hope  that  the  reader  will  pre- 
fer  to  have  such  information  as  is  necessary  myen 
hiin  in  the  form  of  a  general  introduction^rf  ther 
than  in  that  of  a  multitude  of  notes. 
X    i  Je  founder  of  the  Stoic  philosophy  was  Zeno 

^    i^^^  B  c,  in  that  frescoed  arcade,  or  Stoa,  which 
gave  Its  name  to  his  school.     Hi^  birth-pkce  t 
worth  noting,  for  Zeno  lived  at  the  beg  nSg  o 
that  epoch,  himself  one  of  the  first  p?oducts^of 
It   m  which  the  influence  of  the  East  became 

called  Hellenistic  in  contradistinction  to  the  purel  y 

of  lifi  fn  H ""'u^    ^-^  ?'^^"^^  '''^y'  ^^'^  conditions, 
of  life  in  the  Hellenistic  period  formed  the  most 

tavorable  mtheu  possible  for  the  development  of 

Greek   bought  upon  the  only  lines  which,  after 

it    ni't^'VV'^^^     *™^'^""^  P"^-«"^  5  ^"d  this  not 
in  spite  of,  but  even  because  of,  the  great  deo-m- 

dation  of  po  itical  and  social  life  from  whicirall 

Heller         then  suffered.     What  the  democratic 

polities  were  like,  on  which  was  laid  the  problem 

of  confronting  Philip  of  Macedon,  we  may  con 

jectufe  from  the  history  of  the  best  known  and 

assuredly  not  the  worst  of  them,  Athens.     And 

the  best  type  of  Athenian  whose  rise  to  power 


INTRODUCTION.  xT 

was  favored  by  the  conditions  of  this  time  and 
place  was  Demosthenes :  Demosthenes,  the  grand 
historical  warning  to  all  peoples  against  commit- 
ting their  destinies  to  professional  orators ;  the 
statesman  whose  doubtless  real  veneration  for 
his  country  and  her  past  served  only  to  make  him 
a  more  mischievous  counsellor  in  her  present  dif- 
ficulties ;  whose  splendid  power  as  a  wielder  of 
words  was  scarcely  more  signal  than  his  inca- 
pacity and  cowardice  when  he  was  called  upon  to 
match  those  words  with  deeds.  Athens,  entan- 
gling the  Thebans  in  an  alliance  against  Macedon, 
and  then  leaving  them  to  face  Alexander  alone ; 
deifying  Demetrius  the  Besieger  for  driving  out 
a  Macedonian  garrison,  and  allotting  him  the 
Parthenon  itself  to  be  his  lodging  and  the  scene 
of  his  unspeakable  profligacies  ;  murdering  Pho- 
cion,  the  one  man  who  dared  to  bring  sincerity 
and  virtue  to  her  service — Athens  was  a  type  of 
the  Greek  States  of  this  epoch :  too  unprincipled 
for  democratic  government,  too  contentious  for 
despotism,  too  vain  to  submit  to  foreign  rule,  too 
lacking  in  valor,  purpose,  union,  to  resist  it  with 

effect. 

Whatever  the  causes  of  the  change  may  have 
been,  the  conditions  of  public  life  in  this  Hellen- 
istic period  were  certainly  very  different  from 
those  which  prevailed,  albeit  with  decadence,  be- 
fore that  vast  breaking  up  of  boundaries  and  de- 
struction of  political  systems  involved  in  the 
Macedonian  conquests.  The  successful  and  in- 
spiring conflict  with  Persia  waged  by  the  Hel- 
lenic States  had  for  a  time  made  all  Greek  hearts 
to  beat  with  one  aspiration,  and  had  brought  to 
the  front  a  race  of  leaders  who  were  capable  of 
subduing  the  Greek  democracies  to  their  own 
steadfast  and  statesmanlike  purposes.  Public 
life  was  then  not  only  a  possible  but  even  the 
most  natural  career  for  a  man  of  talent  and 
probity.     The  small  size  of  the  Greek  States 


xvi 


INTRODUCTION. 


/ 


V 


\ 


gave  almost  every  sucli  man  an  opportunity  of 
action,  and  so  keen  and  universal  was  the  inter- 
est in  politics  that  it  tlireatened  to  lead  Greek 
philosophy  into  a  region  in  which  philosopliy 
is  very  apt  to  lose  its  vitalizing  connection  with 
human  consciousness  and  experience,  and  to 
stiffen  into  l)arren  speculation.  In  a  word,  man, 
as  an  individual,  began  to  be  too  much  lost 
sight  of  in  the  consideration  of  man  as  a  citizen  ; 
\  his  nses,  his  duties,  the  whole  wortli  and  signifi- 
\  cance  of  Iiis  life,  came  to  be  estimated  too  ex- 
\  elusively  hj  his  relations  to  the  visible  society 
1  about  him.  It  was  when  the  great  Stoic  Chry- 
sippus  found  Iiimself  ol)liged  to  stand  aloof  from 
all  participation  in  politics — "For  if  I  counsel 
honorably  I  shall  offend  the  citizens,  and  if  base- 
ly, tlie  Gods  " — that  such  men  as  he  w^re  led  to 
ask  themselves :  Is  there  then  any  sphere  of 
liuman  endeavor  out  of  the  reacli  of  the  tyranny 
of  circumstance  ?  If  I  cannot  be  a  citizen,  what 
am  I  worth  then  simply  as  a  man  ?  If  I  can  be 
nothing  to  my  fellows,  what  can  I  be  to  God  ? 
To  a  state  of  things,  then,  wliich,  speaking 
broadly,  made  public  life  impossible  to  honest 
men,  we  owe  the  noblest  ethical  system  of  anti- 
quity;  to  the  enforced  concentration  of  thought 
upon  the  individual  we  owe  a  certain  note  of  uni- 
versality till  then  absent  from  Hellenic  thought. 
But  Stoicism  was  not  the  only  product  of  the 
speculation  of  this  period.  Side  by  side  with  it 
there  started  into  being  two  other  systems  of 
philosophy,  the  necessity  for  combating  which 
was  doubtless  of  innnense  service  to  its  develop- 
ment. These  were  Epicureanism  and  Pyrrho- 
nism ;  and  as  the  reader  will  find  Epictetus  much 
concerned  with  each  of  them,  it  may  be  desir- 
able that  I  should  give  some  brief  account  of 
their  cardinal  doctrines. 

Epicurus  was  an  Athenian.    After  some  resi- 
dence in  Lesbos  and  Lampsacus,  he  began  to 


INTRODUCTION. 


xvii 


teach  in  his  native  city  about  tlie  year  306  b.c. 
His  ethical  views,  wliich  are  all  that  concern  ns 
here,  were  of  a   distinctly   nnelevatiiig  natnre. 
1  loasnre,  hedone,  was  pronounced  to  be  for  each 
man  the  end  and  aim  of  his  beiii<r,  and  tlie  only 
rational  motive  of  action.     This,  however,  was 
not  the  pleasure  of  the  volnptnary— its  hiVhest 
forms,  according  to  Epicurus,  were  gained   in 
ataraxia  and  apo7iia— that  is,  a  cheerful  and  un- 
anxious  temperament,  with  leisure  for  contempla- 
tion, ends  not  attainable  by  tlie  criminal  who 
lives  m  constant  fear  of  detection,  or  the  luxu- 
rious liver  in  whom  satiety  produces  disgust  and 
weariness. 

Certain  bodily  conditions  were,  however,  re- 
garded as  objects  in  themselves,  and  partaking 
of  the  nature  of  the  absolutely  good;  and  all 
entanglement  in  human   relationships  was  dis- 
countenanced for  the  disturbance  and   distress 
which  such  relationships  were  liable  to  cause. 
These  doctrines  were  put  in   practice  by  their 
teacher  in  inuring  himself  to  a  hermit-like  sim- 
plicity and  abstemiousness  of  life ;  and  his  life 
was  philosophically  consistent  with  his  doctrines 
for  It  IS  clear  that  the  end  of  Pleasure  will  be 
most  surely  gained  by  him  who  has  fewest  wants 
to  gratify.     But  thongh  the  lives  of  Epicurus  and 
his  immediate  followers  were  exceptionally  sober 
and  strict,  tlie  total  effect  of  his  doctrines  could, 
not  but  have  been   evil.      They  were  purely* 
egoistic  in  this  tendency  —they  centred  each  man's 
activity  and  interest  upon  himself  alone,  they 
bade  him  take  no  thought  for  any  other  earthly 
or  heavenly  thing,  and  taught  Jiim   that    this 
ideal  of  indifference  was  realized  in  its  full  per- 
fection by  the  Gods,  who  dwelt  apart  in  divine 
repose  while  blind  necessity  had  its  way  with 
human  destiny. 

■^^Pyrrho  of  Elis,  a  rather  earlier  teacher  than 
MM  or  Epicurus,  who  is  said  to  have  studied 


•  •• 

XVIU 


INTRODUCTION. 


INTRODUCTION. 


xix 


'/    / 


plillosopliy  under  Indian  Gymnosopliists  and 
Chaldean  Magi,  was  the  originator  in  European 
thought  of  a  great  and  permanent  philosophic 
movement.  His  school  was  inspired  by  the 
Geist  der  stets  verneiniy  and  the  term  Sceptic 
was  first  devised  to  describe  its  attitude.  Its 
strength  is  in  a  discovery  which  inevitably  takes 
place  when  men  begin  to  reflect  upon  their  own 
mental  operations— the  discovery,  namely,  that, 
given  a  perceiving  mind  and  a  perceived  object, 
it  is  always  possible  for  the  former,  if  it  has  the 
power  of  introspection,  to  doubt  whether  it  has 
received  a  really  true  and  faithful  impression  of 
the  latter.  HoV  can  we  be  assured  that  exter- 
nal objects  are  as  we  perceive  them  ?  How  can 
we  even  be  assured  that  there  is  any  principle  of 
constancy  in  their  relations  to  our  consciousness  ? 
The  senses  often  delude  us ;  we  are  convinced, 
in  dreams,  of  tlie  reality  of  appearances  which, 
nevertheless,  have  no  reality — why  may  not  all 
perception  be  a  delusion  ?    Why  may  not  even 

\  our  sense  of  the  validity  of  inference  and  of  the 
•  truth  of  the  axioms  of  geometry  be  a  pure  hal- 
lucination ?  With  these  searching  questions  the 
Sceptic  cut  at  the  root  of  all  belief,  and  the 
problems  which  they  raise  have  dominated  phi- 

i  losophy  down  to  the  present  day.  Nor  in  two 
thousand  years  has  any  logical  answer  to  them 

^ever  been  found.  Lotze,  the  last  thinker  of 
really  first-rate  powers  that  the  world  has  seen, 
practically  abandons  all  inquiry  into  theories  of 
perception,  and  starts  with  the  assumption  that 
we  are  living  in  a  kosmos,  not  a  chaos ;  that  the 
order,  coherence,  reason  in  things  to  which  con- 
sciousness testifies,  are  realities.  In  antiquity,  I 
may  add,  the  profound  problems  raised  by  Pyr- 
rhonism do  not  seem  to  have  been  very  pro- 
foundly apprehended  either  by  the  Pyrrhoiiists 
or  their  opponents.  The  latter  had  nothing 
better  to   appeal  to  than  that  notoriously   fee- 


ble resource,  the  argumentum  ad  hominem.  If 
tlie    Pyrrhonist    distrusted  the  evidence  of  his 
senses,  they  asked,  why  did  he  avoid  walking 
over  precipices  or  into  the  sea,  or  eat  bread  in 
stead  of  earth,  or  in  any  way  make  choice  of 
means  for  ends  ?^    The  Pyrrhonist's  answer  was 
equally  superfacial.      It  anticipated  the  famous 
formula  of  Bishop  Butler.     Probability,  argued 
they,  was  tlie  guide  of  life-having  observed  cer- 
tain  results  to  follow  from  certain  antecedents 
the  prudent  man  will  shape  his  course  in  life 
accordiiigly,  although,  as  a  matter  of  theory  and 
speculation,  he    may  refuse    to   believe   in   the 
constancy  of  nature.     This  answer  involves   a 
clear  inconsistency.     It  involves  even  a  greater 
assumption  than  that  which  the  Pyrrhonist  re- 
lused  to  make  as  to  the  credibility  of  his  per- 
neptions-the  assumption  of  the  credibility  of 
I>is  recollections.     To  the  thorough-going  Sceptic 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  past  experience-hl  is 
as  it  were,  new-born  at  each  instant  of  his  life    ' 

..] -T  i'l  '''c.''"^^'???   ''^^^^   ^^^^   ^ysiem^  against 
which  the  Stoic  philosophy  had  to  make  good  its 
position  in  the  ancient  world.     From  the  first 
there  seems  to  have  been  no  doubt  of  its  ability 
to  do  so,  although  unhappily,  the  records  which 
ia\e  been  preserved  of  the  teaching  of  its  ear- 
liest days  are   few  and  obscure.     The  writings 
ot  Zeno,  the  founder  of  Stoicism,  and  of  Chry- 
sippus    his  immediate  successor  in   the  leader- 
ship ot  the  school,  have  utterly  perished,  while 
of  Cleanthes  the  third  of  the  early  Stoic  teach- 
ers,^ very  little  remains  beyond  the  profound  and 
majestic  Hymn  to  Zeus,  of  which  I  have  ^iven 
a  translation  in  this  work.     The  complete  loss  of 
the  hundreds  of  treatises  produced  by  Chrysip- 
pus  IS  especially  to  be  regretted,  as  he  appears 
to  have  taken  the  main  part  in  giving  shape  and 
system  to  the  Stoic  philosophy.     "  nld  Cfirysip 
pus  not  been,  the  Stoa  had  not  been/'  waa  a 


li 


u 


-1=' 


XX  INTRODUCTION. 

proverbial  saying  which  testifies  to  his  fame. 
However,  from  the  accounts  of  ancient  philoso- 
phers in  Diogenes  Laertius,  from  Plutarch, 
Seneca,  Cicero,'  and  a  few  other  authorities,  w^e 
can  learn  pretty  clearly  what  the  framework  of 
the  Stoic  system  had  grown  to  be  long  before 
Epictetus  began  to  study  it. 

In  antiquity,  a  philosophic  system  was  ex- 
pected to  have  something  to  say  for  itself  on 
three  difiEerent  branches  of  study— Logic,  Phys- 
ics (which  included  cosmogony  and  theology), 
and  Ethics.  We  think  of  the  Stoics  chiefly  in 
connection  with  the  last-named  of  these  subjects, 
but  they  were  no  less  eminent  in  tlie  others,  and 
Clirysippus,  in  particular,  was  held  to  have  done 
so  much  for  the  science  of  logic  that  a  saying 
was  current—"  If  there  were  dialectic  among  the 
Gods,  it  must  be  the  dialectic  of  Clirysippus."  Of 
the  Stoic  contributions  to  this  science,  scarcely 
any  jecord  remains. 

Of  their  physical  system,  however,  much  is 
known,  and  the  reader  of  Epictetus  needs  to  be 
acquainted  with  its  general  features.    These  were 
borrowed  from  an  earlier  thinker,  Heracleitus, 
whose  central  doctrine  was  that  the  universe  was 
an  eternal  flux  and  transition ;  everything  was 
in  a  state  of    becoming,  ein    Werdendes.    At 
the  beginning  of  things,  so  far  as  they  can  be 
fiftid  to  have  any  beginning,   is  the  Deity  in 
his  purest  manifestation,  which,  be  it  observed,  is 
a  strictly  material  one,  a  sublimated  and  ethereal 
fire,  aitherodes  pur.     In  this  dwelt  the  divine 
creative  thought  and  impulse.     The  first  step  in 
that  process  of  differentiation  in  which  develop- 
ment consists  is  the  production  of  vapor,  w^iich 
condensed  into  water.     Two  elementary  forces 
play  their  part  in  these  operations— a  movement 
towards  within,  and  a  movement  towards  with- 
out, the  one  a  densifying,  the  other  an  expand- 
ing aud  straining  force  {tonos).     The  former 


INTRODUCTION. 

gives  us  solidity  in  matter,  the  other  the  quali- 
ties and  energies  of  matter.     Thus,  by  various 
degrees  of  density,  we  get  earth,  water,  atmos- 
pheric air,  and  from  air,  tlie  common  element  of 
earthly  fire ;  and  these  elements  in  their  various 
combinations,  with  their  various  attributes  and 
powers,  gradually  produce  the  successive  stages 
of  organic  life.     Though  all  these  proceed  from 
the  substance  of  the  Divine  Being,  the  Stoics 
recognized,   in   the    derived     substances  which 
make  up  the  universe  as  w^e  have  it  now,  various 
degrees  of  purity,  of  affinity  to  their  original 
source.     Man's  body,  for  instance,  with  its  pas- 
sions and  affections,  lies  comparatively  far  from 
the  divine ;  but  his  soul  is  a  veritable  ray  of  tlie 
primitive  fire,  Deus  in  corpore  hum(mo  hospi- 
tans.     The  popular  mythology  of  the  day  was 
entirely  rejected    by  the   Stoics,   although,   as 
Professor  Mahaffy  points  out,   they  never  at- 
tempted to  "  discredit  orthodoxy,"  but,  on  the 
contrary,  used  its  myths  and  ceremonies  with 
the  utmost  reverence  as  vehicles  of  profound 
religious  truths.     But  they  certainly  believed  in 
intelhgences  above  man,  yet  below  the  one  Su- 
preme Being ;  thus  the  stars  and  the  lightning 
(the  reader   will  observe   the    allusions  in  the 
Hymn  of  Cleanthes)  are  in  some  sense  divinities, 
by  virtue  of  the  supposed  purity  of  their  fiery 
essence. 

Thus  from  the  one  primitive  divine  element 
the  Kosmos,  with  all  its  hierarchy  of  being  is 
evolved.  But  in  the  Stoic  system  panta  rhei,"^ 
there  is  no  continuance  in  any  one  condition. 
As  in  the  normal  life  of  all  earthly  creatures 
there  comes  a  certain  climax  or  turning  point, 
after  which  the  forces  of  decay  gain  sloWly  but 
surely  on  those  of  growth  and  resistance,  so  also 
nins  the  history  of  the  universe  which  includes 

^^'^^^  "^^h  all  flows— the  cardinal  doctrine  of  the  HCTacleitea© 


i 


» 


INTRODUCTION. 


them  all.  One  by  one  the  steps  by  which  it  was 
formed  shall  be  retraced,  and  the  derived  sub- 
stances which  compose  it  consumed  and  re-ab- 
sorbed by  that  from  which  they  sprang.  From 
matter  in  its  grossest  form  to  its  purest,  from 
earth  and  stone  and  water  to  the  highest  intel- 
ligence in  men  and  demons  and  Gods,  nothing 
shall  escape  this  doom  of  dissolution ;  every- 
thing shall  yield  up  its  separate  existence,  until 
at  last  the  indestructible  element  of  that  prime- 
val fire  is  again  the  sole  being  that  remains,  and 
Zeus  is  "  alone  in  the  conflagration,"  self-con- 
templating in  the  solitudes  of  thought.  But 
this  is  not  the  end.  There  is  no  end.  The 
plastic  impulse  again  resumes  its  sway,  and  soon 
another  cycle  of  world-development  and  world- 
destruction  begins  to  run  its  course.  In  tlie 
language  of  Seneca,  "  When  that  fatal  day,  that 
necessity  of  the  times,  shall  have  arrived,  and  it 
seems  good  to  God  to  make  an  end  of  old  things 
and  ordain  the  better,  then  shall  the  ancient 
order  be  revoked  and  every  creature  be  gener- 
ated anew,  and  a  race  ignorant  of  guilt  be  given 
to  the  earth." 

This  was  the  general  physical  system  on 
which  all  Stoics  were  agreed,  although  there 
were  diflEerences  of  opinion  upon  minor  points ; 
such  as  how  far  these  successive  cycles  resembled 
each  other?  some  asserting  that  they  did  so  in 
the  minutest  detail,  others  only  in  their  larger 
features.  It  was  a  system,  for  all  its  supersti- 
tions, not  without  grandeur  and  truth.  At  bot- 
tom it  expressed  a  sense  of  that  phenomenon  of 
ebb  and  now.  systole  and  diastole,  the  action  and 
counteraction  of  balanced  forces,  which  is  per- 
haps the  profoundest  law  of  life. 

Two  questions  arise  in  connection  with  the 
Stoic  cosmogony,  which  we  must  briefly  discuss 
before  proceeding  farther.  Are  we  justified  in 
terming  their  vie\v  of  the  universe  a  materia^li^- 


tNTnODWTtON. 


juxiil 


tic  one  ?  and  what  was  their  doctrine  of  the  des- 
tinies of  the  human  soul  ?    Now  it  is  certainly 
the  usual  practice  among  writers  on  philosophy 
to  reckon  the  Stoics  as  materialists,  and  it  is  un- 
questionably true  that  they  denied  the  possibil- 
ity of  any  existence  which   was  not  corporeal. 
Strong  as  they  are   on   the  supremacy  of  the 
human  soul  over  the  human   body,  sharp  as  is 
the  line  with  which  they  divide  these  elements, 
yet  the  distinction  is  a  moral,  not  a  metaphysical 
one— each  is  an  actual  material  substance.     But 
we  shall  be  seriously  mistaken,  nevertheless,  if 
we  place  them  in  the  same  class  with  the  scien- 
tific materialists  of  the  present  day.     According 
to  the  latter,  Thought  is  no  necessary  moment  in 
tlie  universe,  but  merely  a  product  of  certain 
accidental    combinations  of  matter,  a   product 
which,  when  these  are  dissolved,  must  disappear 
from   existence,  without  leaving  a  trace  of  its 
presence    behind.     Again,   according    to    most 
modern    opponents    of  the  materialistic  view, 
Thought  has  an  independent  and  immortal  being 
—it  existed  before  matter  was,  and  would  coii^ 
tmue   to  exist  if  all   matter  were  annihilated. 
The   Stoic   view  diflfered  from   each   of   these 
modern  theories.     It  held  Thought  and  Matter 
to  be  eternal,  inseparable,  and,  indeed,  strictly 
identical.     Being  in   its  primitive  and    purest 
form  was  Fire,  a  corporeal  substance,  but  one 
exhibiting  consciousness,  purpose,  will. 
^    As  to  the  question  of  the  Stoic  view  of  the 
immortality  of  the  human  soul,  it  does  not  seem 
to  me  to  deserve  so  much  discussion  as  it  has 
received  from  some  commentators.     It  is  obvious 
that  the  soul  must,  in  the  end,  share  the  lot  of 
all  other  existences,  and  be  resolved  into  the 
Divine  Being  which  was  its  source.     The  onlv 
question  that  can  arise  is  whether  this  resolution 
takes  place  at  the  moment  of  death,  or  whether 
the  sense  of  personal  identity  persists  for  a  cer- 


i 


ICXlV 


INTnODUCflOlf. 


INTRODUCTION. 


XXV 


\ 


tain  period  beyond  that  event;  and  tins  ques- 
tion, wliicli  Epictetus  appears  to  have  been  wise 
enough  to  leave  an  open  one,  is  philosophically 
of  very  little  importance.  The  sonl  is  immortal, 
the  individual  perishes ;  this  is  the  conclusion  of 
Stoicism,  and  if  we  know  this,  there  is  little 
else  it  can  much  concern  us  to  know. 

The  reader  who  desires  to  gain  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  Hellenistic  philosophy,  and  of  the 
social  and  political  conditions  in  which  it  throve, 
will  find  what  he  seeks  in  two  works  to  which  I 
have  to  express  my  large  indebtedness.  One  is 
Zeller's  Philosophie  der  Griechen  {Epikureer^ 
Stoiker  u.  Skeptiker\^  a  monument  of  German 
research  and  erudition,  in  which  vast  masses  of 
original  material  for  the  study  of  this  most  inter- 
esting, but  neglected,  epoch  of  the  development 
of  European  intellect  have  been  brought  to- 
gether, and  interpreted  with  more  than  German 
lucidity  and  method.  The  other  is  Professor 
Mahaffy's  recent  volume,  Greek  Life  and 
Thought^  a  study  of  the  Hellenistic  period  in 
various  aspects,  which  the  scholar  will  not 
read  without  profit,  nor  the  lay-reader  without 

pleasure. 

We  turn  now  to  that  department  of  the  Stoic 
philosophy  with  which  the  reader  of  Epictetus  is 
most  concerned — its  Ethics. 

The  ethical  question  resolves  itself  into  a  search 
for  the  supreme  object  of  human  endeavor,  the 
Summum  Bonum^  the  absolute  and  essential 
good.  This,  for  the  Stoic,  embodied  itself  in 
the  formula,  "  to  live  according  to  Nature."  But 
what  is  Nature  ?  The  will  of  God,  as  revealed 
in  the  lieart  and  conscience  of  those  who  seek  to 
know  it,  and  interpreted  through  the  observation 
in  a  reverent  and  faithful  spirit  of  the  facts  of 

life. 

Going  into  the  subject  more  precisely  we  find 

1  An  English  translator  of  this  work  has  lately  appeared. 


certain  criteria  of  moral  truth  established, 
prolepseis^  as  they  were  called,  that  is,  primi- 
tive, original  conceptions,  or,  as  I  have  rendered 
them  in  my  translation,  '^  natural  conceptions," 
dogmas  by  which  all  moral  questions  can  be 
tried.  If  we  inquire  into  the  source  of  these 
prolejpseis^  we  shall  find  ourselves  mistaken  in 
our  disposition  to  think  that  the  Stoics  regarded 
them  as  innate  ideas.  Innate  they  are  not,  for 
the  Stoics  held  the  soul  at  birth  to  be  a  tabula 
rasa^  or  blank  page,  which  only  experience  could 
fill  with  character  and  meaning.  But  as  Seneca 
says  in  his  inquiry,  "Quomodo  ad  nos  prima 
boni  honestique  notitia  pervenerit,"  ^  although 
Nature  alone  could  not  teach  us  these  things, 
could  not  equip  us  with  the  knowledge  of  them 
before  we  entered  upon  life,  yet  the  "  seeds  "  of 
this  knowledge  she  does  give  us;  the  soul  of 
every  man  has  implanted  in  it  a  certain  aptness 
or,  indeed,  necessity  to  deduce  certain  universal 
truths  from  such  observation  and  experience  as 
are  common  to  all  mankind ;  and  these  truths, 
the  pi'olepseis^  though  not  strictly  innate,  have 
thus  an  inevitableness  and  dogmatic  force  not 
possessed  b}^  those  which  one  man  may  reach  and 
another  miss  in  the  exercise  of  the  ordinary 
faculties,  by  argument,  study,  and  so  forth.  By 
these  natural  conceptions  the  existence  and  char- 
acter of  God,  and  the  general  decrees  of  the 
moral  law,  are  considered  to  be  affirmed.  If  we 
inquire  further  how  the  Stoic  explained  the  fact 
that  some  of  these  so-called  inevitable  and  uni- 
versal conclusions  are  denied  in  all  sincerity  by 
men  like  Epicurus,  who  were  neither  bad  nor 
mad,  we  strike  upon  the  diflSculty  which  con- 
fronts all  systems  that  aim  at  setting  up  any 
absolute  canon  of  truth,  expressible  in  human 
language,  in  place  of  that  progressive  and  infin- 
itely varied  revelation  of  God's  mind  and  pur- 

— _— —  ■ 


ii 


\ 


^Xvi 


iNTttomOTlOK 


INTRODUCTION. 


xxvii 


pose  to  wliicli  the  nncolored  facts  of  the  world^s 
religions  liistory  seem  to  testify. 

The  natural  conceptions,  as  I  have  said,  con- 
tain tlie  primary  doctrines  of  etliics.     None  of 
tliese  are  -nore  important  for  the  Stoic  tlian  tliat 
wliicli  c  ..ares  essential  Good  to  lie  in  the  ac- 
tive, not  tlie  passive  side  of  man;  in  tlie  will, 
not  in  the  flesh,  nor  in  anything  else  which  the 
will  is  unable  to  control.     But  a  certain  relative 
and   conditional  goodness   may   lie   in    matters 
which  are  yet  of  no  moment  to  the  spiritual 
man,  to  that  part  of  him  which  seeks  the  essen- 
tial good.     And  we  mnst  note  that  when  Epicte- 
tus  speaks  of  certain  things  as  good  or  bad  or  in- 
different, he  is  generally  speaking  of  them  in  their 
relation  to  the  spiritual  man,  and^in  the  most  abso- 
lute and  nnconditional  sense.     No  evil  can  hap- 
pen to  the  essential  part  of  man,  to  that  side  of 
him  which  is  related  to  the  eternal  and  divine, 
without  his  own  will.     Hence  the  death  of  a  be- 
loved friend,  or  child,  or  wife  is  no  evil;  and  if  it 
he  no  evil,  we  are  forbidden  to  grieve  for  it,  or,  in 
the  most  usual  phrase  with  Epictetus,  we  are  not 
\  to  be  troubled  or  confounded  by  it,  tarassesthai. 
Bnt  if  this  utterance  should  shock  our  natural 
feelings,  it  will  do  something  which  assuredly 
jEpictetus  Tiever  meant  it  to  do.     It  is  the  soul 
)f  man  which  these  events  cannot  injure,'  and 
t  is  the  soul  which  is  forbidden  to  think  itself 
njured  by  them.     Such  love  of  the  individual 
as  may  be  embraced  in  the  large  love  of  All,  of 
God— such  grief  for  bereavements  and  calamities 
as  does  not  overwhelm  the  inner  man  (ii.  19)  in 
a  "  wave  of  mortal  tumult,"  and  dull  his  vital 
I  sense  of  the  great  moral  ends  which  he  was  born 
I  to  pursue,  is  repeatedly  and  explicitly  admitted 
'^  by  Epictetus.     Thus,  in  iii.  2,  we  have  him  argu- 
ing against  Epicurus  that  there  are  certain  natural 
sympathies  between  man  and  his  kind,  and  even 
convicting  Epicurus  himself  of  a  secret  belief  in 


tliese  sympathies.  Epicurus  had  dissuaded  his 
followers  from  marriage,  and  the  bringing-up  of 
children,  on  account  of  the  grief  and  anxiety 
which  such  relations  necessarily  entail.  Not  so 
the  Stoics — they  pressed  their  disciples  to  enter 
into  the  ordinary  earthly  relationslv  v  of  hus- 
band, or  wife,  or*  citizen,  and  this  witiiout  pre- 
tending to  have  found  any  means  of  averting  the 
natural  consequences  which  Epicurus  dreaded, 
althougli  they  did  profess  to  have  discovered 
something  in  man  which  made  him  equal  to  the 
endurance  of  them.  Again,  although  the  condi- 
tion of  apatheia^  of  inward  peace,  of  freedom 
from  passions,  is  again  and  again  represented  by 
Epictetus  as  the  mark  of  the  perfect  sage,  we 
are  told  that  this  apatheia  is  something  quite 
different  from  "apathy"— a  man  is  not  to  be 
emotionless  "like  a  statue."  And  a  third  pas- 
sage confirming  this  view  is  to  be  found  in  Book 
I.,  ch.  xi.  (Schweighauser),  where  the  conduct  of 
a  man  who  was  so  afflicted  by  the  illness  of  his 
little  daughter  that  he  ran  away  from  the  house, 
and  would  hear  news  of  her  only 'through  mes- 
sages, is  condemned,  not  for  the  affection  and 
anxiety  it  proved,  but  for  its  utter  unreasonable- 
ness. "  Would  you,"  asks  Epictetus,  "  have  her 
mother,  and  her  nurse,  and  her  pedagogue,  who 
all  love  her  too,  also  run  away  from  her,  and 
leave  her  to  die  in  the  hands  of  persons  who 
neither  love  nor  care  for  her  at  all  ? "  There  is 
a  grief  which  is  really  a  self-indulgence,  a  barren 
absorbing,  paralyzing  grief,  which,  to  the  soul  pos- 
sessed by  it,  makes  'every  other  thing  in  heaven 
and  earth  seem  strange  and  cold  and  trivial. 
From  such  grief  alone  Epictetus  would  deliver 
us,  and  I  think  he  would  have  accepted  Mr. 
Aubrey  de  Yere's  noble  sonnet  on  Sorrow  as  a 
thoroughly  tit  poetic  statement  of  Stoic  doctrine 
on  this  subject : — 


\ 


I 


I 


j>' 


XXVIU 


INTRODVCriON. 


p 

\ 


**  Count  each  affliction,  whether  light  or  grave, 
God's  messenger  sent  down  to  thee  ;  do  thou 
With  courtesy  receive  him  ;  rise  and  bow  ; 
And  ere  his  shadow  pass  thy  threshold,  crave 
Permission  first  his  heavenly  feet  to  lave  ; 
Then  lay  before  him  all  thou  hast,  allow 
No  cloud  of  passion  to  usurp  thy  brow, 
Or  mar  thy  hospitality  ;  no  wave 
Of  mortal  tumult  to  obliterate 
The  soul's  marmoreal  calmness  :  Grief  should  be 
Like  joy,  majestic,  equable,  sedate  ; 
Confirming,  cleansing,  raising,  making  free  ; 
Strong  to  consume  small  troubles  ;  to  commend 
Great  thoughts,  grave  thoughts,  thoughts  lasting  to 
the  end." 

But  tlie  grief  that  shall  do  tliis  is  a  grief  that 
must  be  felt  And  Epietetus  assuredly  never 
meant  to  offer  tlie  Stoic  philosophy  as  a  mere 
stupefying  anodyne.  Make  the  man  a  Stoic, 
and  something  yet  remains  to  do — to  make  the 
Stoic  a  man.  One  of  these  purposes  was  not 
more  the  concern  of  Epietetus  than  the  other. 
And  he  pursued  both  of  them  with  a  strengtli, 
aincerity,  and  sanity  of  tliought,  with  a  power  of 
nourishing  the  heroic  fibre  in  humanity,  wliicli, 
to  my  mind,  make  him  the  very  chief  of  Pagan 
moralists. 

It  is  no  purpose  of  mine  to  fill  this  preface 
witli  information  which  the  reader  can  gain 
without  doubt  or  difficulty  from  the  author 
whom  it  introduces,  and  therefore  I  shall  leave 
him  to  discover  for  himself  wliat  the  positive 
ethical  teaching  of  Epietetus  was  like.  Nor  is 
it,  unhappily,  possible -to  say  much  upon  another 
subject  on  which  Epietetus  gives  us  little  or  no 
information — his  own  life  and  circumstances. 
Arrian  wrote  a  biography  of  him,  but  it  is  now 
entirely  lost,  and  the  biographical  details  which 
liave  been  collected  from  Simplicius,  Suidas, 
Aulus  Gellius,  and  others  are  very  scanty.  Hq 
was  born  at  Hierapolis,  in  Phrygia,  and  became, 
how  is  unknown,  a  slave  of  Epaphroditus,  a 
freedman  and  favorite  of  Nero,  who  is  recorded  to 


INTRODUCTION. 


XXlX 


have  treated  him  with  great  cruelty.  One  day, 
it  is  said,  Epaphroditus  began  twisting  his  leg 
for  amusement.  Epietetus  said,  "  If  you  go  on 
you  will  break  my  leg."  Epaphroditus  per- 
sisted, the  leg  was  broken,  and  Epietetus  with 
unruffled  serenity,  only  said,  "  Did  not  I  tell  you 
that  you  would  break  my  leg?"  The  icircum- 
stance  is  adduced  by  Celsus  in  his  famous  con- 
troversy with  Origen  as  an  instance  of  Pagan 
fortitude  equal  to  anything  which  Christian 
niartyrology  had  to  show ;  ^  but  it  is  probably 
a  mere  myth  which  grew  up  to  account  for  the 
fact  mentioned  by  Simplicius  and  Suidas  that 
Epietetus  was  feeble  in  body  and  lame  from  an 
early  age. 

Epaphroditus  was  probably  a  very  bad  master, 
and,  as  a  favorite  and  intimate  of  Nero's  must 
have  been  a  bad  man ;  but  we  have  to  thank 
him   for  the  fact  that  Epietetus,  while  yet  a 
slave,  was  sent  to  attend  the  philosophic  lectures 
of  Musonius  Ruf  us,  an  eminent  Stoic  of  Rome,  j 
wliom  both  Epietetus  and  Marcus  Aurelius  men-  / 
tion  with  great  respect.     The    system   of  philo-  j 
sophic  training  had  been  at  this  time  long  organ-  I 
ized.     There   were   masters    of   repute    every-  \ 
where,  who  delivered  their  instruction  in  regular  ] 
courses,  received  a  fixed  payment  for  the  same, 
and  under  whom  crowds  of  young  men  assembled 
from  far  and  near  to  study  science  and  ethics 
— to  receive,  in  short,  what  corresponded  to  a 
university   education  in  those  days.     The  curi- 
ous   circumstance    that  a  slave  like  Epietetus 
could  participate  in  advantages  of  this  kind  is 
generally  explained  as  the  result  of  a  fashion- 
able whim  which  possessed  Roman  nobles  at  this 
time  for  having  philosophers  and  men  of  culture 
among  their  slaves.     Professor  Mahaffy,  in  his 
(rreek  Life  and  Thought  (p.  132),  commenting 

1  Gregory  Nazianzen,  commenting  on  this  nai  rative,  remarks  that 
it  only  shows  how  manfully  unavoidable  sufferings  may  be  borne. 


Ill' 


XXX 


INTRODUCTION. 


INTRODUCTION. 


XXXI 


|i 


'If 


1^ 


on  the  summons  of  the  two  philosophers,  Ana?^- 
archus  and  Callisthenes,   to  console   Alexander 
after  liis  murder  of  Cleitus,  observes  that  it  was 
probably  usual  to  call  in  philosophers  to  minister 
professionally  in  cases  of  affliction.     From  this 
to  making  a  philosopher  a  regular  adjunct  to 
a  largfe  household,  even   as  the  baron  of  later 
times  kept  a  fool,  the  step  is  not  great.     But 
Epaphroditus,  one  thinks,  must  have  had   fre- 
quent reason  to  rue  the  choice  he  made  in  Epic- 
tetus,  if  he  expected  his  domestic  philosopher  to 
excuse  his  misdeeds  as  Anaxarchus  did  those  of 
Alexander  on  the  occasion  above  mentioned.  ^ 
In  the  year  94  a.d.  the   emperor    Domitian 
^  issued  a  decree  expelling  all  philosophers  from 
Kome— an  easily  explainable  proceeding  on  his 
part  if  there  were  any  large  number  of  them 
who,  in  the  words  of  Epictetus,  were  liable  "  to 
look  tyrants  steadily  in  the  face."     Epictetus 
must  liave  by  this  time  obtained  his  freedom  and 
set  up  for  himself  as  a  professor  of  philosophy, 
for  we  iind  him,  in  consequence  of  this  decree, 
betaking  himself  to  Nicopolis,  a  city  of  Epirus. 
Here  he  lived  and  taught  to  a  venerable  age, 
and  here  he  delivered  the  discourses  which  Ar- 
rian  has  reported  for  us.     He  lived  with  great 
simplicity,  and  is  said  to  have  had  no  servant  or 
other  inmate  of  his  house  until  he  hired  a  nurse 
for  an  infant  which  was  about  to  be  exposed, 
according  to  the  practice  of  those  days  when  it 
was  desired  to  check  the  inconvenient  growth 
of  a  family,  and  which  Epictetus  rescued  and 
brought  up. '  The  date  of  his  death  is  unknown. 
And  now,  reader,  I  will  take  my  leave  of  you 
with  Arrian's  farewell  salutation  to  Lucius  Gel- 
lius,  which,  literally  translated,  is,  Be  strong.    H 
you  need  it,  I  know  no  teacher  better  able  to 
make  or  keep  you  so  than  Epictetus.     At  any 
i-ate  to  give  him  a  fair  chance  of  doing  what  it 


is  in  him  to  do  for  English-speaking  men  and 
women  is  something  I  liave  regarded  as  a  sort  of 
duty,  a  discharge  of  obligation  for  his  infinite 
service  to  myself;  which  done  to  the  utmost  of 
my  powers,  the  fewest  forewords  are  the  I^est. 

T.  W.  E. 


CLEANTIIES'  HYMJST  TO  ZEUS.' 


li 


pi 


Most  glorious  of  the  Immortals,  many  named 
Almighty  for  ever.  ' 

Zens,  rnler  of  Nature,  that  governest  all  things 
with  law. 

Hail !  for  lawful  it  is  that  all  mortals  should  ad- 
dress Thee. 

For  we  are  Thy  offspring,  taking  the  image  only 
of  Thy  voice,  ^  as  many  mortal  things  as  live 
and  move  upon  the  earth. 

Therefore  I  will  hymn  Thee,  and  sing  Thy  mi^ht 
forever. 

For  Thee  doth  all  this  universe  that  circles  round 
the  earth  obey,  moving  whithersoever  Thou 
leadest,  and  is  gladly  swayed  l)y  Thee, 

Such  a  minster  hast  Thou  in  Thine  invincible 
hands ;— the  two-edged  blazing,  imperishable 
thunderbolt. 

For  under  its  stroke  all  Nature  shuddereth,  and 
by  it  tliou  guidest  aright  the  Universal 
Eeason,  that  roams  through  all  things, 
mingling  itself  with  the  greater  and  the  les- 
ser lights,  till  it  have  grown  so  great,  and 
become  supreme  king  over  all. 

Kor  is  aught  done  on  the  earth  without  Thee,  O 
God,  nor  in  the  divine  sphere  of  the  heav- 
ens, nor  in  the  sea. 

Save  the  works  that  evil  men  do  in  their  folly 

1  See  notes  on  the  Hymn  of  Cleanthes, 


#1 


34 


CLEANTHES'  HYMN  TO  ZEUS. 


I" 


r( 


•♦III 


i' 


f    if 


Yea,  but  Thou  knowest  even  to  find  a  place  for 
superfluous  things,  and  to  order  that  which 
is  disorderly,  and  things  not  dear  to  men 
are  dear  to  Thee. 

Thus  dost  Thou  harmonize  into  One  all  good  and 
evil  tilings,  that  there  should  be  one  ev^er- 
lasting  Reason  of  them  all. 

And  this  the  evil  among  mortal  men  avoid  and 
heed  not ;  wretched,  ever  desiring  to  pos- 
sess tlie  good,  yet  they  nor  see  nor  hear  the 
universal  law  of  God,  which  obeying  with 
all  their  heart,  their  life  would  be  w^ell. 

But  they  rush  graceless  each  to  liis  own  aim, 

Some  cherishing  lust  for  fame,  the  nurse  of  evil 
strife, 

Some  bent  on  monstrous  gain, 

Some  turned  to  folly  and  the  sweet  works  of  the 
flesh, 

Hastening,  indeed,  to  bring  the  very  contrary  of 
these  things  to  pass. 

But  Thou,  O  Zeus,  the  All-giver,  Dweller  in  the 
darkness  of  cloud.  Lord  of  thunder,  save 
Thou  men  from  their  unhappy  folly, 

Which  do  Thou,  O  Father,  scatter  from  their 
souls ;  and  give  them  to  discover  the  wis- 
dom, in  whose  assurance  Thou  governestall 
things  with  justice  ; 

So  that  being  honored,  they  may  pay  Thee 
honor. 

Hymning  Thy  works  continually,  as  it  beseems 
a  mortal  man. 

Since  there  can  be  no  greater  glory  for  men  or 
Gods  than  this, 

Pul^  to  praise  for  ever  tbe  Universal  Law. 


THE  TEACHING  OF  EPICTETUS. 


BOOK  I. 
CHAPTER  I. 

THE   BEGINNING    OF    PHILOSOPHY. 

that  IraT:vf "  '^  ^''''  *^^^°  «-*  b«J-- 

bVSe  door  -^       f  ""^  '*  ^'.  *'^"^'  ^"^''*  ^"d  enter 
oj  tiie  door,    is  the  consciousness  of  their  own 

feebleness  and  incpacit:,  in  respect  of  necesLT^ 

3.  For  we  come  into  the  world  having  bv  na 
ture  no  Idea  of  a  right  angled  trianUe  or  a 
qnarter-tone,  or   a  semi-tone"  but    by  a  certein 

And  thus  those  who  know  tliem  not,  do  not  sun' 
pose  that  thej  know  them.  But  ^ood  and  evH 
and  nobleness  and  baseness,  and  tlTe  seemly  and 
ard  wS'^^^'  '"^  ^^^t'P"^^^^  ^"d  misfoJtune^ 
wuat  ought  to  be  done  and  what  not— who  hatl. 

oi  tnese  things  ?    Thus  we  all  use  these  terms 
and  endeavor  to  fit  our  natural  conceptions  to 

ymy,  he  failed,  he  siMceeded,  he  is  unriaht 
'^^!lh^!J!:wht^^        of  us  spLth  tote 

having,  Where  notesZ^  nl5.e'X? t^o^w^cCeroi  ^l^''^^^ 


\..^ 


86 


EPICTETUS. 


ft 


terms  like  these  ?  Which  of  us  will  defer  the 
use  of  them  till  he  hath  learned  them,  even  as 
ignorant  men  do  not  use  terms  of  geometry  or 
music  ?  But  this  is  the  reason  of  it :  we  come 
into  the  world  already,  as  it  were,  taught  by 
Nature  some  things  in  this  kind,  and  setting  out 
from  these  thinsjs  we  have  added  thereto  our  own 
conceit.^  JPor  noWj  saith  one,  do  I  not  know 
what  is  noble  and  what  is  base  f  Have  1  not 
the  notion  of  it  ?  Truly.  And  do  1 7iot  apply 
it  to  things  severally  ?  You  do  apply  it.  IJo  I 
not,  then  J  apply  it  rightly  ?  But  here  lies  the 
whole  question,  and  here  conceit  entereth  in. 
For  setting  out  from  things  coufessed  by  all  they 
go  on  by  a  false  application  to  tliat  which  is  dis- 
puted. For  if,  in  addition  to  those  things,  they 
had  gained  also  this  power  of  application,  what 
would  then  hinder  them  to  be  perfect?  But 
now  since  you  think  that  you  apply  rightly  the 
natural  conceptions  to  things  severally,  tell  me, 
whence  have  you  this  assurance  ? 

"  Because  it  seems  so  to  me.'' 

Buf  to  another  it  seems  otherwise — and  he, 
too,  doth  he  think  his  application  risjht  or  not  ? 

"  He  doth  think  it." 

Can  ye,  then,  both  be  rightly  applying  the 
conceptions  in  matters  wherein  your  opinions 
contradict  each  other. 

"  We  cannot." 

Have  you,  then,  aught  better  to  show  for  your 
application,  or  aught  above  this,  that  it  seemeth 
^o  to  you?  But  what  else  doth  a  madman  do, 
than  those  things  that  to  him  seem  right  ?  And 
dot) I  this  rule  suffice  for  him? 

"  It  doth  not  suffice." 

Come,  then,  to  that  yhich  is  above  seeming. 
What  is  this  ? 

4.  Behold,  the  beginning  of  philosophy  is  tlie 
observation  of  how  men  contradict  each  other, 
mjd  the  ae^rch  whence  couietli  this  Qontradic- 


THE  BEGINNING    OF  PHILOSOPHY.        37 

tion  and  the  censure  and  mistrust  of  bare  opinion 
And  It  IS  an  inquiry  into  that  which  seems! 
whether  it  rightly  seems ;  and  the  discovery  of 
a  certain  rule,  even  as  we  have  found  a  balance 
lor  weiglits  and  a  plumb  line  for  straight  and 
crooked  This  IS  the  beginning  of  philosophy. 
Are  all  things  right  to  all  to  whom  they  seem  so  « 
±5ut  Jiow  can  contradictory  things  be  right  ? 

''JS'ay,  then,  not  ail  tilings,  but  those  that 

seem  to  us  right." 

And  why  to  you  more  than  the  Syrians,  or  to 
the  Egyptians  ?     A\  liy  more  tlian  to  me  or  to  any 
other  man.     JSTot  at  all  more.     Seeming,  then 
doth  not  for  every  man  answer  to   Bei'nc^  •  for 
neither  in  weights  or  measures  doth  the  bare  ai)- 
pearance  content  us,  but  for  each  case  we  have 
discovered  some  rule.     And  Jiere,  then,  is  there 
no  rule  above  seeming  ?  And  how  could  it  be  that 
there  were  no  evidence  or  discoverv  of  things 
the  most  necessary  for  men  ?     There  is,  then,  a 
rule.     And    wherefore   do  we  not  seek  it,  and 
Und  it,  and,  having  found  it,  henceforth  use  it 
without  transgression,  and  not  so  much  as  stretch 
forth  a  hnger  without  it  ?     For  this  it  is,  I  think, 
tliat  when  it  is  discovered  cureth  of  their  mad- 
ness those  that  mistoeasure  all  things  by  seemincr 
alone  ;  so  that  henceforth,  setting  out  f/om  thin^t 
known  and  investigated,  we  may  use  an  organ- 
ized body  of  natural  conceptions  in  all  our  sev- 
eral dealings. 

5.^  What  is  the  subject  about  which  we  are  in- 

cast  It  into  the  scales.     Now  the  good  must  be  a 

thing  of  such  sort  that  we  ought  to  trust  in  it? 

iraty.     And    we   ought  to   have   faitli   in   it? 

^ye  ought     And  ought  we  to  trust  in  anything 

rnv'ifv."'9^^r 'z  T^2/.     And  iiath  pleasure 

anj  stability  ?    It  hath  not     Take  it  then,  and 

ing  It  out  of  the  scales,  and  set  it  far  away  from 

the  place  of  the  Good.    But  if  you  ai-e  dim  gf 


ii 


Jtf 


38 


EPICTETUS. 


sight,  and  one  balance  doth  not  suffice,  then  take 
anotlier.  Is  it  right  to  be  elated  in  what  is  good  ? 
Tea  And  is  it  right  to  be  elated  then  in  the 
presence  of  a  pleasure  ?  See  to  it  that  thou  say 
not  it  is  right ;  or  I  shall  not  hold  thee  worthy 
even  of  the  balance.'  Thus  are  things  judged 
and  weighed,  when  the  rules  are  held  in  readi- 
ness. And  the  aim  of  philosophy  is  this,  to  ex- 
auiine  and  establish  the  rules.  And  to  use  theni 
when  they  are  known  is  the  task  of  an  wise  and 
good  man. 


CHAPTER  IL 

ON   THE    NATUKAL    CONCEPTIONS. 

1.  The  natural  conceptions  are  common  to  all 
meii  and  one  cannot  contradict  another.     For 
which  of  us  but  athrms  that  the  Good  is  proht- 
able,  and  that  we  should  clioose  it,  and  m  all 
circumstances  follow  and  pursue  it?     Which  ot 
us  but  atKrms  that  uprightness  is  honorable  and 
becomiuo'?    Where,  then,  doth  the  contradic- 
tion arise?     Concerning  the  application  of  the 
natural  conceptions  to  things  severally.     W  hen 
one  saith.  He  did  well,  he  is  a  worthy  man,  and 
another.  Nay,  hit  he  did  foolishly,  then  there  is 
a  contradiction  among  men,  one  with  another. 
And  there  is  the  same  contradiction  among  the 
Jews  and  the  Syrians  and  the  Egyptians  and  the 
Romans;  not  whether  that  which  is  righteous 
should  be  preferred  to  all  things  and  in  all  cases 
pursued,  but  whether  this  be  righteous  or  un- 
n.»-hteous,  to  eat  the  flesh   of  swine.     And  we 
can  discover  the  same  contradiction  in  the  mat- 
ter of  Achilles  and  Agamemnon.     For  call  them 
before  us:    What    sayest    thou,    Agamemnon, 
Should  not  that  which  is  right  and  fair  corae  tu 

pass? 

^ «  That  should  it." 


ON  THE  NATURAL   CONCEPTIONS.        39 

And  what  sayest  thou,  Achilles,  Both  it  not 
please  thee  tliat  what  is  fair  and  right  should 
l)c  done «  ° 

— —  "  Of  all  things  this  dotli  most  please  me." 
1  hen  make  application  of  your  natural  concep- 
tions. Wiience  arose  this  dispute?  The  one 
saith  :  7  am  not  bound  to  deliver  up  Chryseis  to 
her  father  And  the  other  saitlf:  TJwu  art 
bound.     Assuredly  one  of  them  must  ill  apply 

sa.th .  Therefore  f  J  should  ddiver  ,ip  Chryseis, 
it  ts  meet  thai  1  take  his  prize  from  one  of 
you.  And  the  other:  Wotddst  thou,  then,  tai 
from  me  my  beloved?  He  saith:  Yea,  even 
thme.  And  sh^ll  I  alone,  and  /  alone,  have 
i^otUngf    And  thus  ariseth  the  contradiction. 

A   WJiatisit,  then,  to  be  educated  ?    It  is  to 
]e.<irn  to  apply  the  natural  concei)tions  to  each 
thing  severally  according  to  nature;  and  furtlier 
to  discern  that  of  things  that  exist  some  are  in 
our  own  power »  and  the  rest  are  not  in  our  own 
pow-er.     And  things  that  are  in  our  own  power 
are  the  will,  and  all  the  works  of  the  will.    And 
things  that  are  not  in  our  own  power  are  the 
body,  and  the  parts  of  the  body,  and  possessions 
and  parents  and  brethren  and  children  and  coun- 
try, and,  in  a  word,  our  associates.     Wliere  now 
f^liall  we  place  the  Good  ?     To  what  obiects  shall 
we  apply  it  ?     To  those  which  are  in'  our  own 
power?     l^ien  is  health  not  good,  and  Avhoje 
Innbs  and  life?  and  are  not  cliildren  and  i)arents 
and  country?     And  who  will  bear  with  you  it 
you  say  this?    Let^is,  then,  transfer  it  to  these 
tilings.     JSTow,  can  one  be  liappy  who  is  iniured 
and  lias  missed  gaining  wliat  is  "good  ?     He  can- 
not.    And  can   such  a  one   bear  himself  to- 
wards his  fellow  as  he  ought  ?     How  is  it  pos- 
sible that  he  should  ?     For  I  have  it  of  nature 
tliat  1  must  seek  my  own  profit.     If  it  profits 
me  to  own  a  piece  of  land,  it  profits  me  to  take 


W 


1 


40 


EPICTETUS. 


it  from  my  neighbor.    If  it  profits  me  to  have  a 
garment,  it  profits  me  to  steal  it  from  the  bath. 
And  hence  wars,  seditions,  tyrannies,  conspira- 
cies    And  how  shall  I  be  able  to  maintam  a 
ricrht  mind  towards  God  ?  for  if  I  suffer  injury 
and  misfortune,  it  cannot  be  but  He  neglects  me. 
And  what  have  I  to  do  with  ilim  if  He  cannot 
help  me  ?    And,  again,  what  have  I  to  do  with 
Him  if  he  is  willing  to  let  me  continue  in  the 
evils  in  which  I  am?    Henceforth  I  begin  to 
hate  Him.    Why,  then,  do  we  build  temples  and 
set  up  statues  to  Zeus  as  we  do  to  powers  of 
evil,  such  as  Fever  ?  ^    And  how  is  He  now  the 
Saviour  and  the  Eaingiver  and  the  Fruitgiver  ? 
And  verily,  all  this  follows,  if  we  place  any- 
where in  external  things  the  nature  and  being 
of  the  Good. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   MASTEU-FACULTY. 

1    Of  all  our  faculties  ye  shall  find  but  one 
that  can  contemplate  itself,  or,  therefore,  approve 
or  disapprove  itself.     How  far  hath  grammar 
the  power  of  contemplation  ?     Only  so  far  as  to 
ind^e  concerning  letters.     And  music?     Only 
so  far  as  to  judge  concerning  melodies,     l^oth 
any  of  them,   then,  contemplate  itself^     JNot 
one     But  when  you  have  need  to  write  to  your 
friend,  grammar  will  tell  you  how  to  write ;  but 
whether  to  write  or  not,  grammar  will  not  tel . 
And  so  with  the  musical  art  in  the  case  of  mel- 
odies; but  whether  it  is  now  meet  or  not  to  sing 
or  to  play,  music  will  not  tell.    What,  then,  will 
tell  it?    That  faculty  which  both  contemplates 
itself  and  all  other  things.    And  what  is  this  ? 
It  is  the  facultv  of  Reason ;  for  we  have  re- 
ceived none  other  which  can  consider  itselt— - 
what  it  is,  and  what  it  can,  and  what  it  is  worth 


THE  MASTER-FACULTY.  U 

—and  all  the  other  faculties  as  well.  For  what 
else  is  it  tliat  tells  us  that  a  golden  thing  is 
beautiful,  since  itself  doth  not  ?  Clearly  it  is 
the  faculty  which  makes  use  of  appearances. 
VVliat  else  is  it  that  judges  of  music  and  gram- 
mar, and  the  other  faculties,  and  proves  their 
uses,  and  shows  the  lit  occasions?  None  else 
tlian  this. 

2.  Thus  the  Gods,  as  it  was  lit  they  should, 
place  that  only  in  our  power  which  is  the  might- 
iest and  master  thing,  the  right  use  of  appear- 
ances ;  but  other  things  are  not  in  our  power. 
Was  It  that  they   did  not  wish  it?    I  indeed 
thmk  that  had  they  been  able  they  had  made 
over  to  us  those  things  also ;  but  this  they  could 
in  no  way  do.     For  being  on  the  earth,   and 
bound  up  with  this  flesh  and  with  these  associ- 
ates, how  was  it  possible  tliat  as  regards  these 
we  should  not  be  hindered  by  external  things « 
Lutwhat  saith  Zeus?    "Epictetus,  if  it  were 
possible,  I  would  have  made  both  this  thy  little 
body  and  thy  little  propertv  free  and  unham- 
pered.    But  forget  not  now  that  this  is  but  finely 
tempered  clay,  and  nothing  of  thine  own.     And 
since  I  could  not  do  this,  I  liave  given  thee  a 
part  of  ourselves,  this  power  of  desiring  and 
disliking  and  pursuing,  avoiding  and  rejecting, 
and,  m  brief,  tlie  use  of  appearances.     Have  a 
care,  then,  of  tills,  hold  tliis  only  for  thine  own, 
and  thou  shalt  never  be  hindered  or  hampered' 
thou  shalt  not  lament,  thou  shalt  not  blame,  thou 
Shalt  never  flatter  any  man."    What  tlien  ?    Do 
these  seem  trifling  matters  ?     God  forbid.    Are 
you,  then,  not  content  with  them  ?    At  least  J 
pray  the  Gods  I  may  le.^ 

3.  But  now  having  one  thing  in  our  power  to 
care  for,  and  to  cleave  to,  we  rather  choose  to  be 
careful  of  many  things,  and  to  bind  ourselves 
to  many  tilings,  even  to  the  flesh,  and  to  pos- 
sessions, and  to  brother  and  friend  and  child 


42 


EPICTETUS. 


and  slave.  And  being  thus  bound  to  many 
tilings,  they  lie  heavy  on  us  and  drag  us  down. 
So,  if  the  weatlier  be  not  fair  for  sailing,  we  sit 
down  distraught  and  are  ever  peering  forth  to 
see  how  stands  the  wind.  It  is  nortli.  And 
what  is  that  to  us  ?  When  will  tfie  west  wind 
hloio  ?  When  it  shall  seem  good  to  it,  friend  ; 
or  to  Jiolus.  For  it  was  not  thee,  but  ^olus 
whom  God  made  "steward  of  the  winds."^ 
What  then  ?  It  is  right  to  devise  how  we  may 
perfect  the  tilings  that  are  our  own,  and  to  use 
the  others  as  their  nature  is.  And  what,  then, 
is  their  nature  ?     As  it  may  please  God. 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

THE  NATURE  OF  THE  GOOD. 

1.  The  subject  for  the  good  and  wise  man  is 
his  ow^n  master-faculty,  as  the  body  is  for  the 
physician  and  the  trainer,  and  the  soil  is  the  sub- 
ject for  the  husbandman.  And  the  work  for  the 
good  and  wase  man  is  to  use  appearances  accord- 
ing to  Nature.  For  it  is  the  nature  of  every 
soul  to  consent  to  w^hat  is  good  and  to  reject 
what  is  evil,  and  to  hold  back  about  w^hat  is  un- 
certain ;  and  thus  to  be  moved  to  pursue  the 
good  and  to  avoid  the  evil,  and  neither  way  to- 
wards w^hat  is  neither  good  nor  evil.  For  as  it  is 
not  lawful  for  the  money-changer  or  the  seller  of 
herbs  to  reject  Cesar's  coin,  but  if  one  present 
it,  then,  whether  he  will  or  no,  he  must  give  up 
what  is  sold  for  it,  so  it  is  also  with  the  soul. 
When  the  Good  appears,  straightway  the  soul  is 
moved  tow^ards  it,  and  from  the  Evil.  And 
never  doth  the  soul  reject  any  clear  aj^pearance 
of  the  good,  no  more  than  Caesar's  coin.  On  this 
hangeth  every  movement  both  of  God  and  man. 

2.  The  nature  and  essence  of  the  Good  is  in 
a  certain  disposition  of  the  Will ;  likewise  that 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  GOOD, 


43 


of  the  Evil.  What,  then,  are  outward  things? 
Matter  for  the  Will,  about  whieli  being  occupied 
it  shall  attain  its  own  good  or  evil.  How  shall 
it  attain  the  Good  ?  Through  not  being  dazzled 
with  admiration  of  what  it  works  on.^  For  our 
opinions  of  this,  when  right,  make  the  will  right, 
and  when  wrong  make'  it  evil.  This  law  hath 
God  established,  and  saith,  "  If  thou  wouldst 
have  aught  of  good,  have  it  from  thyself." 

3.  If  tiiese  things  are  true  (and  if  we  are  not 
fools  or  hypocrites),  that  Good,  for  man,  lies  in 
the  Will,  and  likewise  Evil,  and  all  other  things 
are  nothing  to  us,  Avhy  are  we  still  troubled? 
why  do  we   fear?     The  things  for  which   we 
have  been  zealous  are  in  no  other  man's  power ; 
and  for  the  things  that  are  in  others'  power  we 
are   not   concerned.     What   difficulty   iiave   we 
now^  ?     But  direct  7ne^  sayest  thou.     And  why 
shall  I  direct  thee  ?  hath  not  God  directed  thee  ? 
hath    He  not  given  thee    that  which  is  thine 
own  unhindered  and  unhampered,  and  hindered 
and   hampered   that   w^hich  is  not  thine  own? 
And   what  direction,  what  word  of  command 
didst  thou  receive  from  Him  when  thou  earnest 
thence  ?     "  Hold  fast  everything  Avhicli  is  thine 
own— covet   not   that   which   is   alien   to   thee. 
And  faithfulness  is  thine,  and  reverence  is  thine : 
who,  then,  can  rob  thee  of  these  things?  who 
can  hinder  thee  to  use  them,  if  not  thyself?  But 
thyself  can   do  it,   and  how?     When   thou  art 
zealous  about  things  not  thine  own,  and   hast 
cast  away   the   things   that  are."     With    such 
counsels  and  commands  from  Zeus,  what  wilt 
thou  still   from  me?     Am   I  greater  than  he? 
am  I  more  worthy  of  thy  faith  ?     But  if  thou 
hold  to  these  things,  of  what  others  hast  thou 
need?    But  pervhance  these  are  none  of  his 
commands?     Then  bring  forward  the   natural 
conceptions,   bi-ing    the    proofs    of  the  philoso- 
phers, bring  the  things  thou  hast  often  heard, 


44 


EPICTETUS. 


m 

bring  the  tilings  that  thyself  hast  spoken,  bring 
what  thou  hast  read,  bring  what  thou  hast  pon- 
dered. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   PROMISE   OF   PHILOSOPHY. 

1.  Of  things  that  exist,  some  are  in  our  own 
power,  some  are  not  in  our  own  power.  Of 
things  that  are  in  cur  own  power  are  our  opin- 
ions, impulses,  pursuits,  avoidances,  and,  in  brief, 
all  that  is  of  our  own  doing.  Of  things  that  are 
not  in  our  own  power  are  the  body,  possessions, 
reputation,  authority,  and,  in  brief,  all  that  is 
nut  of  our  own  doing.  And  the  things  that 
are  in  our  own  power  are  in  their  nature  free, 
not  liable  to  hindrance  or  embarrassment,  while 
the  things  that  are  not  in  our  own  power  are 
strengthless,  servile,  subject,  alien. 

2.  Kemember,  then,  if  you  hold  things  by 
their  nature  subject  to  be  free,  and  things  alien 
to  be  your  proper  concern,  you  will  be  ham- 
pered, you  will  lament,  you  will  be  troubled, 
you  will  blame  Gods  and  men.  But  if  you  hold 
that  only  to  be  your  own  which  is  so,  and  the 
alien  for  what  it  is,  alien,  then  none  shall  ever 
compel  you,  none  shall  hinder  you,  you  will 
blame  no  one,  accuse  no  one,  you  will  not  do  the 
least  thing  unwillingly,  none  shall  harm  you, 
you  shall  have  no  foe,  for  you  shall  suffer  no 
injury. 

3.  Aiming,  then,  at  things  so  high,  re- 
member that  it  is  no  moderate  passion  where- 
with 3'ou  must  attempt  them,  but  some  things 
you  must  utterly  renounce,  and  put  some,  for 
the  present,  aside.  For  if,  let  us  say,  you  aim 
also  at  this,  to  rule  and  to  gather  riches,  then 
you  are  like,  through  aiming  at  the  chief 
things  also,  to  miss  these  lower  ends ;  and  shall 


THE  WAY  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 


45 


most  assuredly  miss  those  others,  through  which 
alone  freedom  and  happiness  are  won.  Straight- 
way, then,  practice  saying  to  every  harsh  ap- 
])earance — T/iou  art  an  Appearance  and  not  at 
all  the  thing  thou  appear  est  to  he.  Then  ex- 
amine it,  and  prove  it  by  the  rules  you  have,  but 
lirst  and  above  all  by  this,  whether  it  concerns 
something  that  is  in  our  own  power,  or  some- 
thing that  is  not  in  our  own  power.  And  if  the 
latter,  then  be  the  thought  at  hand  :  It  is  noth- 
ing  to  Me. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   WAY    OF   PHILOSOPHY. 

1.  A  CERTAIN  Roman  having  entered  with  his 
son  and  listened  to  one  lecture,  •'This,"  said 
Epictetus,  "  is  the  manner  of  teaching;  "  and  he 
was  silent.  But  when  the  other  prayed  him  to 
continue,  he  spake  as  follows : — 

Every  art  is  wearisome,  in  the  learning  of  it, 
to  the  untaught  and  unskilled.  Yet  things  that 
are  made  by  the  arts  innnediately  declare  their 
use,  and  for  what  they  were  made,  and  in  most 
of  them  is  something  attractive  and  pleasing. 
And  thus  when  a  slioemaker  is  learning  his 
tiade  it  is  no  pleasure  to  stand  by  and  observe 
him,  but  the  shoe  is  useful,  and  moreover  not 
unpleasinor  to  behold.  And  the  learning  of  a 
carpenter's  trade  is  very  grievous  to  an  untaught 
person  who  happens  to  be  present,  but  the  work 
done  declares  the  need  of  the  art.  But  far 
more  is  this  seen  in  music,  for  if  you  are  by 
where  one  is  learning,  it  will  appear  the  most 
painful  of  all  instructions ;  but  that  which  is 
produced  by  the  musical  art  is  sweet  and  de- 
lightful to  hear,  even  to  those  who  are  untaught 
in  it.  And  here  we  conceive  the  work  of  one 
who  studies  philosophy  to  be  some  such  thing, 


46 


EPICTETUS. 


tliat  he  must  iit  liis  desire  to  all  events,  so  that 
nothing  may  come  to  pass  against  our  will,  nor 
may  aught  fail  to  come  to  pass  that  we  wish  for. 
Whence  it  results  to  those  who  so  order  it,  that 
they  never  fail  to  obtain  w4iat  they  would,  nor 
to  avoid  what  they  would  not,  living,  as  regards 
themselves,  without  pain,  fear,  or  trouble; 
and  as  regards  their  fellows,  observing  all  the 
relations,  natural  and  acquired  ;  as  son  or  father, 
or  brother  or  citizen,  or  husband  or  wife,  or 
neighbor  or  fellow-traveller,  or  prince  or  subject. 
Such  we  conceive  to  be  the  w^ork  of  one  who 
pursues  philosophy.  And  next  we  must  inquire 
how  this  may  come  about. 

2.  We  see,  then,  that  the  carpenter  becomes  a 
carpenter  by  learning  something,  and  by  learn- 
ing something  the  pilot  becomes  a  pilot.  And 
here  also  is  it  not  on  this  wise  ?  Is  it  enough 
that  we  merely  wish  to  become  good  and  w^ise,  or 
must  we  not  also  learn  something?  We  inquire, 
then,  what  we  have  to  learn. 

3.  The  philosophers  say  that,  before  all  things, 
it  is  needful  to  learn  that  God  is,  and  taketh 
thouorht  for  all  thinors;  and  that  nothing  can  be 
hid  from  him,  neither  deeds,  nor  even  thoughts 
or  wishes.  Thereafter,  of  what  nature  the  Gods 
are.  For  whatever  thev  are  found  to  be,  he 
who  would  please  and  serve  them  must  strive, 
with  all  his  might,  to  be  like  unto  them.  If  the 
Divine  is  faithful,  so  must  he  be  faithful ;  if 
free,  so  must  he  be  free ;  if  beneficent,  so  must 
he  be  beneiicent ;  if  high-minded,  so  must  he  be 
high-minded  ;  so  that  thus  emulating  God,  he 
shall  both  do  and  speak  the  things  that  follow 
therefrom.^ 

4.  Whence,  then,  shall  we  make  a  beginning  ? 
If  you  will  consider  this  with  me,  I  shall  say, 
first,  that  you  nnist  attend  to  the  sense  of  words.^ 

'^  So  I  do  not  now  understand  them  ? " 

You  do  not. 


THE  WAY  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 
'^  How,  then,  do  I  use  them  ? " 


47 


As  the  unlettered  use  written  w^ords,  or  as  cat- 
tle use  appearances ;  for  the  use  is  one  thing  and 
understanding  another.     But  if  you  think  you 
understand,  then  take  any  word  you  will,^  and 
let  us  try  ourselves,  wliether  we  understand  it. 
But  it  is  hateful  to  be  confuted,  for  a  man  now 
old,  and  one  who,  perhaps,  hath  served  his  three 
campaigns?     And   I  too  know  this.     For  you 
have  come  to  me  now  as  one  who  lacketh  noth- 
ing.    And  what  could  you  suppose  to  be  lacking 
to  you?     Wealth  have  you,  and  cliildren,  and  it 
may  be  a  wife,  and  many  servants ;  Caesar  knows 
you,  you  have  won  many  friends  in  Rome,  you 
give  every  man  his  due,  you  reward  with  good 
him  that  doeth  good  to  you,  and  with  evil  him 
that  doeth  evil.     What  is  still  lacking  to  you  ? 
If,  now,  I   shall   show  you   that   you   lack  the 
greatest  and  most   necessary  things  for  happi- 
ness, and  that  to  this  day  you  have  cared  for 
everything  rather  than  for  what  behoved  you ; 
and  if  I  crown  all  and  say  that  you  know  not 
what  God  is  nor  what   man  is,  nor  Good  nor 
Evil ; — and  w^hat  I  say  of  other  things  is  perhaps 
endurable,  but  if  I  say  you  know  not  your  own 
self,  how  can  you  endure  me,  and  bear  the  ac- 
cusation, and  abide  here  ?     Never — but  straight- 
w^ay  you  will  go  away  in  anger.     And  yet  what 
evil  have  I  done  you  ?     Unless  the  mirror  doth 
evil  to  the  ill-favored  man,  w^hen  it  shows  him 
to  himself  such  as  he  is,  and  unless  the  physician 
is  thought  to  affront  the  sick  man  when  he  may 
say  to  him :     Man,  dost  thou  think  thou  aile'st 
nothing  ?     Thou  hast  a  fever :  fast  to-day  and 
drink  water.    And  none  saith.   What  an  affront. 
But  if  one  shall  say  so  to  a  man  :     Thy  pur  suits 
are  inflamed,  thine  avoidances  are  mean,  thy 
:p^irposes  are  lawless,  thy  impulses  accord  not 
with  nature^  thine  opiniom  are  vain  and  lying 


48 


EPICTETUS. 


— straightway  he  goeth  forth  and  saith,  He  af- 
fronted me. 

5.  We  follow  our  business  as  in  a  great  fair. 
Cattle  and  oxen  are  brought  to  be  sold ;  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  men  come  some  to  buy,  some 
to  sell ;  and  few  are  they  who  come  for  the  spec- 
tacle  of   the   fair, — how   it  comes  to  pass,  and 
wherefore,  and  who  are  tliey  who  have  estal)- 
lished  it,  and  to  what  end.     And  so  it  is  here, 
too,  in  this  assembly  of  life.     Some,  indeed,  like 
cattle,  concern  themselves  with  nothing  but  fod 
der ;  even  such  as  those  that  care  for  possessions 
and  lands  and  servants  and  offices,  for  these  are 
nothing  more  than  fodder.     But  few  are  they 
who  come  to  the  fair  for  love  of  tlie  spectacle, 
what  the  world  is  and  by  whom  it  is  governed. 
By  no  one  ?     And  how  is  it  possible  that  a  state 
or  a  house  cannot  endure,  no  not  for  the  shortest 
time,  without  a  governor  and  overseer,  but  this 
so  great  and  fair  fabric  should  be  guided  thus 
orderly  by  chance  and  accident  ?     Tliere  is,  then, 
one  who  governs.     But  what  is  his  nature  ?  and 
how  doth  he  govern  ?  and  we,  that  were  made 
by  him,  what  aVe  we,  and  for  what  are  we?  or 
have  we  at  least  some  intercourse  and  link  with 
him,  or  have   we  none  ?     Thus  it  is  that  these 
few  are  moved,  and  thenceforth  study  this  alone, 
to  learn   about  the  fair,  and  to  depart.     What 
then  ?  they  are  mocked  by  the  multitude.     And 
in  tlie  fair,  too,  the  observers  are  mocked  by  the 
traders;  and  had  the  cattle  any  reflection  they 
would  mock  all  those  wlio  cared  for  any  thing  else 
than  fodder. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TO   THE   LEARNEB. 

1.  Remember  that  pursuit  declares  the  aim  of 
attaining  the  thing  pursued,  and  avoidance  that 

of  not  falling  into  tlio  thing  shurmed ;  and  ho 


TO  THE  JLEARlsER. 


49 


who  fails  in  his  pursuit  is  unfortunate,  and  it 
is  misfortune  to  fall  into  what  lie  would  avoid.  If 
now  you  shun  only  those  things  in  your  power 
which  are  contrary  to  Nature,  you  shall  never  fall 
into  what  you  would  avoid.  But  if  you  slum 
disease  or  death  or  poverty,  you  shall  have  mis- 
fortune. 

2.  Turn  away,  then,  your  avoidance  from 
things  not  in  our  power,  and  set  it  upon  things 
contrary  to  Nature  which  are  in  our  power. 
And  let  pursuit  for  the  present  be  utterly  ef- 
faced ;  for  if  you  are  pursuing  sometliing  that  is 
not  in  our  power,  it  must  needs  be  that  you  mis- 
carry, and  of  things  that  are,  as  many  as  yon 
may  rightly  aim  at,  none  are  yet  open  to  you. 
But  use  only  desire  and  aversion,  and  that  in- 
deed lightly,  and  witli  reserve,  and  indifferently. 

3.  No  great  thing  cometh  suddenly  into  being, 
for  not  even  a  bunch  of  grapes  can,  or  a  fig.  If 
you  say  to  me  now:  I  desireafig^  I  answer  that 
there  is  need  of  time :  let  it  first  of  all  flower, 
and  then  bring  forth  tlie  fruit,  and  then  ripen. 
When  the  fruit  of  a  fig-tree  is  not  perfected  at 
once,  and  in  a  single  hour,  would  j'ou  win  the 
fruit  of  a  man's  mind  thus  quickly  and  easily? 
Even  if  I  say  to  you,  expect  it  not. 

4.  To  fulfil  the  promise  of  a  man's  nature  is 
itself  no  connnon  thing.  For  what  is  a  man  ? 
A  living  creature^ '  say,  you  ;  mortal^  and  en- 
dowed with  Reason,  And  from  what  are  we 
set  apart  by  Reason  ?  From  the  wild  heasts. 
And  wliat  others?  From  sheep  and  the  like. 
Look  to  it,  then,  that  thou  do  nothinsr  hke 
a  wild  beast,  for  if  thou  do,  the  man  in  thee 
perisheth,  thou  has  not  fulfilled  his  promise. 
J^ook  to  it,  that  thou  do  nothing  like  a  sheep 
or  thus  too  the  man  hath  perished.  What^  then^ 
can  we  do  as  sheep?  When  we  are  glutton- 
ous, sensual,  reckless,  filthy,  thoughtless,  to  wliat 

are  we  then  sunken  ?    ta  eheep,   Wli^t  have 


^ 


50 


EPICTETUS. 


I 


we  lost  ?  Our  faculty  of  Reason.  And  when 
we  are  contentious,  and  hurtful,  and  angry  and 
violent,  to  what  are  we  sunken?  To  wild 
beasts.  And  for  the  rest  some  of  us  are  great 
wild  beasts,  and  some  of  us  little  and  evil  ones; 
wherel)y  we  may  say,  "  Let  me  at  least  be  eaten 
by  a  lion."^  But  through  all  these  things  the 
promise  of  the  man's  nature  has  been  ruined. 

5.  For  when  is  a  complex  proposition  safe?^ 
When  it  fulfils  its  promise.  So  that  the  validity 
of  a  complex  proposition  is  when  it  is  a  complex 
of  truths.  And  when  is  a  disjunctive  safe  ? 
When  it  fulfils  its  promise.  And  when  are  flutes, 
or  a  lyre,  or  a  horse,  or  a  dog  ?  What  marvel  is 
it,  then,  if  a  man  also  is  to  be  saved  in  the  same 
way,  and  perish  in  the  same  way  ? 

6.  But  each  thing  is  increased  and  saved  by  the 
corresponding  works — the  carpenter  by  the  prac- 
tice of  carpentry,  the  grammarian  by  the  study 
of  grammar;  but  if  he  use  to  write  ungram- 
matically, it  must  needs  be  that  his  art  shall  be 
corrupted  and  destroyed.  Thus,  too,  the  works 
of  reverence  save  the  reverent  man,  and  those  of 
shamelessness  destroy  him.  And  works  of  faith- 
fulness save  the  faithful  man,  and  the  contrary 
destroy  him.  Ai.d  men  of  the  contrary  charac- 
ter are  strengthened  therein  by  contrary  deeds ; 
the  irreverent  by  iiTcverence,*^  the  faithless  by 
faithlessness,  the  reviler  by*  reviling,  the  angry 
by  anger,  the  avaricious  by  unfair  giving  and 
taking. 

7.  Know,  tliat  not  easily  shall  a  conviction  arise 
in  a  man  unless  he  every  day  speak  the  same 
things  and  hear  the  same  things,  and  at  the  same 
time  apply  them  unto  life. 

^  8.  Every  great  power  is  perilous  to  beginners. 
Thou  must  bear  such  things  according  to  thy 
strength.  But  I  mud  live  aeccrrding  to  Na- 
ture  f  That  is  not  for  a  sick  man.^  Lead  thy 
\\U  us  a  sick  man  for  a  wliile,  so  that  thou  mayest 


THE  CYNIC. 


61 


hereafter  live  it  as  a  whole  man.    Fast,  drink 
water,  abstain  for  a  while  from  pursuit  of  every 
kind,  m  order  that  thou  mayest  pursue  as  Keason 
bids     And  if  as  Reason  bids,  then  when  thou 
Shalt  have  aught  of  good  in  thee,  thy  pursuit  shall 
be  well.    JVayMt  we  would  live  as  sages  and  do 
good  to  men.     What  good  'i    What  wilt  thou  do « 
Hast    thou   done  good   to   thyself  ?    But  thou 
would'st  exhort  them  ?    And  hast  thou  exhorted 
thyse  f  ?  *    Thou  would'st  do  them  good-then  do 
not  chatter  to  them,  but  show  them  in  thyself 
what  manner  of  men  philosophy  can  make.    In 
thy  eating  do  good  to  those  that  eat  with  thee,  in 
thy  drinking  to  those  that  drink,  by  yielding  and 
giving  place  to  all,  and  bearing  with  them.    Thus 
do  them  good,  and  not  by  spitting  thy  bile  upon 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  CYNIC.^ 

1.  One  of  his  pupils,  who  seemed  to  be  drawn 
towards  the  way  of  Cynicism,  inquired  of  Epic- 
tetus  what  manner  of  man  the  Cynic  onght  to 
be,  and  what  was  the  natural  conception  of  the 
thing.     And  Epictetus  said :  Let  us  look  into  it 
a,t  leisure.     But  so  much  I  have  now  to  say  to  you 
that  whosoever   shall  without   God  attempt  so 
great  a  matter  stirreth  up   the  wrath  of  God 
against  him,  and  desiretli"  only  to  beliave  himself 
nnseemly  before  the  people.     For  in   no  well- 
ordered  house  doth  one  come  in  and  say  to  Jiini- 
self:  I  should  he  the  steward  of  the  house,  else 
when  the  lord     of    the    house  shall  have  ob- 
served It,  and  seeth  him  insolently  giving  orders 
he  will  drag  him  forth  and  chastise  him.     So  it 
IS  also  m  tins  great  city  of  the  universe,  for  here 
too  there  is  a  master  of  the  house  wlio  ordereth 
each  and  all :  «  Thou  ai-t  tlie  Sun  ;  thy  power  is 


II 


60 


EPICTETUS. 


we  lost  ?  Our  faculty  of  Reason.  And  when 
we  are  contentious,  and  hurtful,  and  angry  and 
violent,  to  what  are  we  sunken  ?  To  wild 
beasts.  And  for  the  rest  some  of  us  are  great 
wild  beasts,  and  some  of  us  little  and  evil  ones ; 
whereby  we  may  say,  "  Let  me  at  least  be  eaten 
by  a  lion."  ^  But  through  all  these  things  the 
promise  of  the  man's  nature  has  been  ruined. 

5.  For  when  is  a  complex  proposition  safe  ?  ^ 
When  it  fulfils  its  promise.  So  that  the  validity 
of  a  complex  proposition  is  when  it  is  a  complex 
of  truths.  And  when  is  a  disjunctive  safe  ? 
When  it  fulfils  its  promise.  Aiid  when  are  flutes, 
or  a  l3^re,  or  a  horse,  or  a  dog  ?  What  marvel  is 
it,  then,  if  a  man  also  is  to  be  saved  in  the  same 
way,  and  perish  in  the  same  way  ? 

6.  But  each  thing  is  increased  and  saved  by  the 
corresponding  works — the  carpenter  by  the  prac- 
tice of  carpentry,  the  grammarian  by  the  study 
of  grannnar ;  but  if  he  use  to  write  ungram- 
matically, it  must  needs  be  that  his  art  shall  be 
corrupted  and  destroyed.  Thus,  too,  the  works 
of  reverence  save  the  reverent  man,  and  those  of 
shamelessness  destrov  him.  And  works  of  faith- 
fulness  save  the  faithful  man,  and  the  contrarv 
destroy  him.  Ai.d  men  of  the  contrary  charac- 
ter are  strenii:tliened  therein  bv  contrary  deeds : 
the  irreverent  l)v  irreverence,  the  faithless  by 
faithlessness,  the  reviler  b}'"  reviling,  the  angry 
by  anger,  the  avaricious  by  unfair  giving  and 
taking. 

7.  Know,  tliat  not  easily  shall  a  conviction  arise 
i:i  a  man  unless  he  every  day  speak  the  same 
tilings  and  hear  the  same  things,  and  at  the  sanie 
time  apply  them  unto  life. 

8.  Every  great  power  is  perilous  to  beginners. 
Thou  must  bear  such  things  according  to  thy 
strength.  £ut  I  mud  live  accordimj  to  Na- 
ture f  That  is  not  for  a  sick  man.*  Lead  thy 
life  as  a  sick  man  for  a  while,  so  that  thou  mayest 


THE  CYNIC. 


51 


hereafter  live  it  as  a  whole  man.  Fast,  drink 
water,  abstam  for  a  while  from  pursuit  of  everv 
kind,  m  order  that  thou  mayest  pursue  as  Reason 
bids.  And  if  as  Reason  bids,  then  when  thou 
Shalt  have  aught  of  good  in  thee,  thy  pursuit  shall 
be  well.  J\ay,  hut  we  would  Km  as  sages  and  do 
good  to  men.  What  good?  What  wilt  thou  do « 
Hast    thou   done  good   to  thyself?    But  thoii 

I"""  ,/,V''i,?'"'  *^'*''"  •  ^»<J  l^"^st  thou  exhorted 
thyse  f  ?  *  Thou  would'st  do  them  good— then  do 
not  chatter  to  them,  but  sliow  them  in  thyself 
what  manner  of  men  philosophy  can  make.  In 
thy  eating  do  good  to  those  that  eat  with  thee,  in 
thy  drinking  to  those  that  drink,  by  yielding  and 
giving  place  to  all,  and  bearing  with  them.  Thus 
do  them  good,  and  not  by  spitting  thy  bile  upon 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   CYNIC.^ 

1.  One  of  his  pupils,  who  seemed  to  be  drawn 
towards  the  way  of  Cynicism,  inquired  of  Epic- 
tetus  what  manner  of  man  the  Cynic  ought  to 
be,  and  what  was  the  natural  conception  of  the 
thing.     And  Epictetus  said :  Let  us  look  into  it 
at  leisure.     But  so  much  I  have  now  to  say  to  you 
that  whosoever   shall  without   God  attempt   so 
great  a   matter  stirreth  up   the  wrath  of  God 
against  him,  and  desireth  only  to  beliave  himself 
unseemly  before  the  people.     For  in   no  well- 
ordered  house  doth  one  come  in  and  say  to  him- 
self :  1  should  he  the  steward  of  the  house^  else 
when  the  lord     of    the    house   shall  have  ob- 
served it,  and  seeth  him  insolently  giving  orders, 
he  will  drag  him  forth  and  chastise  him.     So  it 
IS  also  in  this  great  city  of  the  universe,  for  iiere 
too  there  is  a  master  of  the  house  who  ordereth 
each  and  all :  "  Thou  art  the  Sun  ;  thy  power  is 


52  EPIVTETUS. 

to  travel  round  and  to  make  tlie  year  and  the 
seasons,  and  to  increase  and  nourish  Iruits,  and 
to  stir  the  winds  and  still  them,  and  temperately 
to  warm  the  bodies  of  men.     Go  forth,  rnn  thy 
course,  and  minister  thus  to  the  greatest  things 
and  to  the  least.     Thou  art  a  calf ;  when  a  ion 
shall  appear,  do  what  beiits  thee  or  it  sliall  be 
worse  for  thee.     Thou  art  a  bull ;  come  forth 
and  tight,  for  this  is  thy  part  and  pride  and  this 
thou  Sanst.     Thou  art  able  to  lead   the  army 
against    Ilion ;    be  Agamemnon.     Thou  canst 
ii"ht  in  a  single  combat  with  Hector;  be  Achil- 
\es     But  if  thersites  came  forth  and  pretended 
to  the  authority,  then  either  he  would  not  gam 
it,  or,  gaining  it,  he  would  have  been  shamed 
before  many  witnesses.  ,  ,     ^        u*. 

2    And  about  this  affair,  do  thou  take  thought 
upon  it  earnestly,  for  it  is  not  such  as  it  seeineth 
to  thee.     /  wear  a  rough  doaJc  now,  and  I  shall 
wear  it  then ;  ^  J  sleep  hard  now,  and  J  shall 
sleep  so  then.  1  will  take  to  myself  a  ^vallet  and 
staf,  and  I  will  hegin  to  go  about  andheg  and 
to  reprove  everyone  J  meet  with;  audit  1  shall 
see  one  that  plucks  out  his  hairs,  I  letU  censure 
him.,  oi'  rni'j  that  hath  his  ha/ir  curled,  or  mt 
noes  in  purde  rahnent     If  thou  conceivest  the 
matter  on  this  wise,  far  be  it  from  thee— go  not 
near  it,  it  is  not  for  thee.     But  if  thou  conceiv- 
est of  it  as  it  is,  and  boldest  thyself  not  unworthy 
of  it,  then  behold  to  how  great  an  enterprise  thou 
art  putting  forth  thine  hands. 

3  First,  in  things  that  concern  thyself,  thou 
must  appear  in  nothing  like  unto  what  thou  now 
doest.  Tliou  must  not  accuse  God  nor  man; 
thou  must  utterly  give  over  pursuit,  and  avoid 
only  those  things  that  are  in  the  power  ot  thy 
will ;  anger  is  not  meet  for  thee,  nor  resent- 
ment, nSr  envy,  nor  pity;^  nor  must  a  girl 
appear  to  thee  fair,  nor  must  reputation,  nor  a 
flat  cake.*     For  it  must  be    understood    tliat 


THE  CYNIC. 


53 


» 


other  men  shelter  themselves  by  walls  and 
liouses  and  by  darkness  when  they  do  such 
things,  and  many  means  of  concealment  have 
they.  One  shutteth  the  door,  placeth  someone 
before   the  chamber;  if  anyone  sJiould  come, 

*?^',i    ,     **,^«^'    ^  «*    ^usy.     But  in    place 
ot  all  these  things  it  behooves  the  Cynic  to  sliel- 
ter  himself  behind  his  own  piety  and  reverence  • 
but  if  he  dotli  not,  he  sliall  be  put  to  shame,' 
naked  under  the  sky.     This  is  his  house,  this  his 
door,  tins  the  guards  of  iiis  chamber,  this  his 
darkness.     For  he  must  not  seek  to  hide  fught 
that  he  doeth,  else  he  is  gone,  the  Cynic  hath 
penslied,  the  man  who  lived  under  the  open  skv 
the  freeman,     lie  hath  begun  to  fear  somet]nn'<r 
from  without,  he  hath  begun  to  need  conceal- 
ment; nor  can  he  iind  it  when  he  would,  fur 
wliere  sliall  he  hide  himself,  and  how  ?    And  if 
by  chance  this  tutor,  this  public  teacher,  should 
be  found  in  guilt,  what  things  must  he  not  suffer ! 
And  .fearing  these  things,  can  lie  yet  take  heart 
with  his  wliole  soul  to  guide  the  rest  of  man- 
kind ?     That  can  he  never :  it  is  impossible ! 

4.  First,  then,  thou  must   purify  thy  rulino- 
faculty,  and  tills  vocation  of  thine  also,  sayingl 
Now  it  is  my  mind  I  must  shape,  as  the  carpe*ii- 
ter  s}ia]>es   wood   and   the  shoemaker  leather  • 
and  the  thing  to  be  formed  is  a  right  use   of 
appearances.     But  nothing  to  me  is  the  body 
and  nothing   to   me  the   parts  of  it.     Deatllf 
Let  it  come  when  it  will,  either  death   of  the 
whole  or  of  a  part.     Flee  it!     And  whither? 
Can  any  man  cast  me  out  of  the  universe  ?    He 
cannot;  but  whithersoever  I  may  go  there  will 
be  the  sun,  and  the  moon,  and  there  the  stars, 
and  visions,  and  omens,  and  communion   with 
tJie  Gods.* 

5.  And,  furthermore,  when  he  hath  tlins  fash- 
ioned himself,  he  will  not  be  content  with  these 
things,  who  is  a  C^nic  indeed.    But  know  that 


i 


54 


EPICTETUS. 


he  is  an  herald  from  God  to  men,  declaring  to 
them  the  truth  about  good  and  evil  things ;  that 
they  have  erred,  and  are  seeking  the  reality  of 
good  and  evil  where  it  is  not ;  and  where  it  is, 
they  do  not  consider ;  and  he  is  a  spy,  like  Diog- 
^es,  when  he  was  led  captive  to  Philip  after 
the  battle  of  Cliseronea.^  For  the  Cynic  is,  in 
truth,  a  spy  of  the  things  that  are  friendly  to 
men,  and  that  are  hostile;  and  having  closely 
spiad  out  all,  he  must  come  back  and  declare 
the  ^nith.  And  he  must  neither  be  stricken 
with  terror  and  report  of  enemies  where  none 
are;  nor  be  in  any  otherwise  confounded  or 
troul>led  by  the  appearances. 

6,  He  must  then  be  able,  if  so  it  chance,  to 
go  up  ftnpassioned,  as  on  the  tragic  stage,  and 
speak  that  word  of  Socrates,  "  O  men,  whither 
are  ye  borne  away  ?  What  do  ye  ?  Miserable 
as  ye  are !  like  the  blind  men  ye  wander  up  and 
down.  Ye  have  left  the  true  road,  and  are 
goin^  by  a  false ;  ye  are  seeking  peace  and  hap- 
piness where  they  are  not,  and  if  another  shall 
show  you  where  they  are,  ye  believe  him  not. 
Wherefore  will  ye  seek  it  in  outward  things  ? 
In  the  body  f  It  is  not  there— and  if  ye  believe 
me  not,  lo,  Myro !  lo,  Ophellius.'^  In  posses- 
sionsf  It  is  not  there,  and  if  ye  believe 
me  not,  lo,  Croesus!  lo,  the  wealthy  of  our  own 
day,  how  full  of  mourning  is  their  life !  In 
mitharity  ?  It  is  not  there,  else  should  those  be 
happy  who  have  been  twice  or  thrice  consul ; 
yet  they  are  not.  Whom  shall  we  believe  in 
this  matter?  You,  who  look  but  on  these  men 
from  without,  and  are  dazzled  by  the  appear- 
ance, or  the  men  themselves?  And  what  say 
they?  Hearken  to  them  when  they  lament, 
when  they  groan,  when  by  reason  of  those  con- 
sulships, and  their  glory  and  renown,  they  hold 
their  state  the  more  full  of  misery  and  danger ! 
In  royalty?    It  is  not  there;  elsij  wer^  JSero 


THE  CYNIC. 


55 


happy  and  Sardanapalus ;  but  not  Agamemnon 
Jnmselt  was  Jiappy,  more  splendid  though  lie 
was  than  JSero  or  Sardanapalus ;  but  while  the 
rest  are  snoring  what  is  he  doing  ? 

"  He  tore  his  rooted  hair  by  handfuls  out."— jR.  x. 

And  what  saith  himself  ?    "  I  am  distrauo-lit " 
he  saith,  "  and  I  am  in  anguish  ;  my  heart  Teaps 
forth    from    my   bosom."_[//.    x.]     Miserable 
man !  which  ot  thy  concerns  hatli  gone  wroncr 
with    thee?     Thy   wealth?     Nay.     Thy  bodyl 
Nay ;  but  thou   art  rich   in   gold   and  bronze. 
What  ails  thee  then  ?    Tliat  part  whatever  it  be 
with  which  we  pursue,  with  which  we  avoid' 
desire  and  dislike,  thou  hast  neglected  and  cor- 
rupted.    How  hath  it  been  neglected  ?    He  hath 
been  Ignorant  of  the   true  Good   for  which  it 
was  born,  and  of  the  Evil ;  and  of  what  is  liis 
own  and  what  is  alien  to  him.     And  wlien  it 
goeth  ill  with  something  tliat  is  alien  to  him,  he 
saith     Woe  IS  ms.fov  the  Greeks  are  in  peril 
O,  unhappy  mind   of  thee !  of  all  things  alone 
neglected  and  untended.     They  will  he  slain  by 
the  Trojans  and  die  !    And  if  the  Troians  slav 
them  not  will  tliey  not  still  die  ?     Yea,  but  not 
all  together.     What,  then,  doth  it  matter  ?  for  if 
It  be  an  evil  to  die,  it  is  alike  an  evil  to  die 
together  or  to  die  one  by  one.     Shall  anvthin^ 
else  happen  to  them  than  the  parting  of  bodv 
and  soul  ?    JSTothing.     And   when   tlTe  Greeks 
liave  perished,  is  the  door  closed  to  thee  ?  canst 
thou  not  also  die  ?     /  can.     WJierefore,  then 
dost  ^  thou  lament :      Woe  is  me,  a  king,  and 
bearing  the  sceptre  of  Zeus?    There  is  no  un- 
tortunate  king,  as  there  is  no  unfortunate  God 
What,  then,  art  thou?    In  very  truth  a  shep- 
iierd ;  for  thou  lamentest  even  as  shepherds  do 
when    a  wolf  hath    snatched  away  one  of  the 
sheep ;  and  sheep  are  tliey  whom  thou  dost  rule 
And  why  art  thou   come  hither?      Was  thy 


S6 


EPICTETUS. 


faculty  of  pursuit  in  any  peril  or  of  avojdaiiee, 
or  thy  desire  or  aversion?  JVay,  he  saitli,  l^tfi 
my  Irrother's  wife  was  carried  away.  Was  it 
not  a  great  gain  to  be  rid  of  an  adulterous  wife? 
Shalfwe  he,  then,  despised  of  the  Trojans  ?  Of 
the  Trojans  ?  Of  what  manner  of  men  ?  of  wise 
men  or  fools?  If  of  wise  men,  why  do  we 
make  war  with  them  ?  if  of  fools,  why  do  we 

heed  theui  ? 

7.  In  what,  then,  is  the  good,  seeing  that  in 
these  things  it  is  not?     Tell  us,  thou,  my  lord 
missionary   and  spy !     It    is    there    where  ye 
deem  it   iiot,  and   where  ye  have  no  desire  to 
seek  it.     For  did   ye    desire,   ye   would    have 
found  it  in  yourselves,  nor  would  ye  w^ander  to 
things    without,   nor   pursue  things  alien,  as  if 
they"  were  your  own  concerns.     Turn  to  your 
own  selves ;  understand  the  natural  conceptions 
which  ye  possess.     What  kind  of  thing  do  you 
take  the  Good  to  be?     Peace?  happiness?  free- 
dom?     Come,   then,   do  ye  not  naturally   con- 
ceive it  as  great,  as  precious,  and   that  cannot 
be  harmed  ?     What  kind  of  material,  then,  will 
ye  take  to  shape  peace   and  freedom  withal— 
that  which  is  enslaved  or  that  which  is  free? 
Tfiat  which  is  free.     Have  ye  the  flesh  enslaved 
or  free  ?      We  know  not.     Know  ye  not,  that  it 
is  the  slave  of  fever,  of  gout,  of  ophthalmia,  of 
dysentery,  of  tyranny,  and  fire,  and  steel,  and 
everything  that  is  mightier  than  itself  ?     Yea, 
it  is  enslaved.     How,  tlien,  can  aught  that  is  of 
the  body  be  free  ?  and  how  can  that  be  great  or 
precious  which  by  nature  is  dead,  mere  earth  or 

mud  ?  ^ 

8.  What  then  ?  have  ye  nothing  that  is  free  ? 
It  may  he  nothing.  And  w^ho  can  compel  you 
to  assent  to  an  appearance  that  is  false?  No 
7nan.  And  who  can  compel  you  not  to  assent 
to  an  appearance  that  is  true  ?  No  man.  Here, 
then,  ye  see  that  there  is  in  you  something  that 


THE  CYNIC. 


57 


is  by  nature  free.  But  which  of  you,  except  he 
lay  hold  of  some  appearance  of  the  protital)le,  or 
of  the  becoming,  can  either  pursue  or  avoid,  or 
desire  or  dislike,  or  adapt  or  intend  anything? 
No  man.  In  tliese  things,  too,  then,  ye  have 
something  that  is  unliiiidered  and  free.  This, 
miserable  men,  must  ye  perfect;  this  have  a 
care  to,  in  this  seek  for  the  Good. 

9.  And  how  is  it  jpossihle  that  one  can  live 
jwosperously  who  hath  nothing  ;  a  nailed,  home- 
less,  hearthless,  heggarly  man,  without  servants, 
without  a  country?  Lo,  God  hath  sent  you  a. 
man  to  show^  you  in  very  deed  that*it  is  possible. 
"  Behold  me,  that  I  have  neither  country,  nor 
house,  nor  possessions,  nor  servants ;  I  sleep  on 
the  ground ;  nor  is  a  wife  mine,  nor  cliildren, 
nor  domicile,  but  only  earth  and  heaven,  and  a 
single  cloak.  And  what  is  lacking  to  me?  do 
ever  I  grieve  ?  do  1  fear  ?  am  I  not  free  ?  When 
did  any  of  you  see  me  fail  of  my  pursuit,  or  meet 
with  what  1  had  avoided  ?  When  did  I  blame  God 
or  man  ?  When  did  I  accuse  any  man  ?  When 
did  any  of  you  see  me  of  a  sullen  countenance  ? 
How  do  I  meet  those  whom  ye  fear  and  marvel 
at?  Do  I  not  treat  them  as  my  slaves?  Who 
that  seeth  me,  but  thinketh  lie  beholdeth  his 
king  and  his  lord  ? " 

10.  So  these  are  the  accents  of  the  Cjnic,  this 
his  character,  this  his  design.  Not  so — but  it 
is  liis  bag,  and  his  staff,  and  his  great  jaws ;  and 
to  devour  all  that  is  given  to  him,  or  store  it  up, 
or  to  reprove  out  of  season  everyone  that  he 
may  meet,  or  to  show  oflf  his  shoulder.^ 

11.  Dost  thou  see  how  thou  art  about  to  take 
in  hand  so  great  a  matter  ?  Take  first  a  mirror, 
look  upon  thy  shoulders,  mark  well  thy  loins 
and  thifirhs.  Thou  art  about  to  enter  thv  name 
for  the  Olympic  games,  O  man  ;  no  cold  and 
paltry  contest.  Nor  canst  thou  then  be  merely 
overcome  and  then  depart ;  but  first  thou  must 


58 


EPICTETU8. 


THE  CYNIC, 


m 


be  shamed  in  the  sight  of  all  the  world ;  and 
not  alone  of  the  Athenians  or  Lacedajnionians, 
or  Nicopolitans.  And  then  if  thou  hast  too 
rashly  entered  upon  the  contest,  thou  must  be 
thrashed,  and  before  being  thrashed  must  suffer 
thirst  and  scorcliing   heat,  and  swallow   much 

dust. 

12.  Consider  more  closely,  know  thyself,  ques- 
tion thy  genius,^^  attempt  nothing  without  God ; 
who,  if  he  counsel  thee,  be  sure  that  he  wills  thee 
either  to  be  great  or  to  be  greatly  plagued.  For 
this  very  agreeable  circumstance  is  linked  with 
the  calling'of*a  Cynic;  he  must  be  flogged  like 
an  ass,  and,  being  flosrged,  must  love  those  wlio 
flog  him,  as  though  he  were  the  father  or  brother 
of  "all  mankind.  Not  so,  but  if  one  shall  flog 
thee,  stand  in  the  midst  and  shriek  out,  O  Cwsar, 
what  things  do  I  suffer  in  the  Emperor' s  peace  ! 
Let  us  taJce  him  before  the  pro-consul.  But  what 
is  Caesar  to  the  Cynic?  or  what  is  a  pro-consul? 
or  what  is  any  other  than  lie  that  hath  sent  him 
thither,  and  whom  he  serveth,  which  is  Zeus  ? 
Doth  he  call  upon  any  other  than  God  ?  Is  he 
not  persuaded,  whatsoever  things  he  may  suffer, 
that  he  is  being  trained  and  exercised  by  God  ? 
Hercules,  when  he  was  exercised  by  Eurystheus, 
never  deemed  himself  wretched  ;  but  fulfilled 
courageously  all  that  was  laid  upon  him.  But 
he  who  shall  cry  out  and  bear  it  hard  when  he 
is  being  trained  and  exercised  by  Zeus,  is  he 
worthy  to  bear  the  sceptre  of  Diogenes  ?  Hear 
what  Diogenes  saith,  when  ill  of  a  fever,  to  the 
bystanders:  Base  souls,  will  ye  not  remain? 
To  see  the  overthrow  and  comhat  of  -athletes, 
how  great  a  way  yc  journey  to  Olympia  ;  and 
have  ye  no  will  to  see  a  comhat  hetween  a  fever 
and  a  man  ?  And  will  such  an  one  presently 
accuse  God  who  hath  sent  him,  as  having  used 
him  ill— he  who  was  glorying  in  his  lot,  and 
held  liimself  worthy  to  be  a  spectacle  to  the  by- 


standers? For  of  what  shall  he  accuse  Him: 
that  his  life  is  seemly,  that  he  manifests  God's 
will,  that  lie  showeth  forth  his  virtue  more 
brightly?  Come,  then ;  and  what  saith  he  about 
death,  about  pain  ?  How  did  he  compare  his 
own  happiness  with  that  of  the  Great  King? 
nay,  he  thought  rather  that  there  was  no  com- 
parison. For  where  there  are  confusions,  and 
griefs,  and  fears,  and  unattained  pursuits,  and 
avoidance  in  vain,  and  envy  and  rivalry,  can  the 
way  to  happiness  lie  there  ?  But  where  rotten 
opinions  are  there  must  of  necessity  be  all  these 
tilings. 

13.  And  the  young  man  having  asked  whetlier 
one  that  hath  fallen  ill  shall  obey,  if  a  friend 
desire  that  he  will  go  home  with  him  and  be 
tended  :  Where,  he  said,  will  you  show  me  the 
friend   of  a   Cynic?    For  he  himself  must  be 
even  such  another,  so  as  to  be  worthy  to  be  reck- 
oned his  friend.     A  sharer  in   the  sceptre  and 
the  royalty  must  he  be,  and  a  worthy  servant,  if 
he  will  be  worthy  of  his  friendship,  as  Diogenes 
was  of  Antisthenes  and  Crates  of  Diogenes.     Or 
seems  it  so  to  thee  that  whosoever  shall  come  to 
him  and  bid  him  hail  is  his  friend  ?  and  that  he 
will  think  him  worthy  that  a  Cynic  shall  go  to 
his  house?     Tlius,    if  it    please  thee   to   be  a 
Cynic,  bethink  thee  rather  of  such  a  thing  as 
this,   and   cast    about   for  a   dainty   dungheap 
whereon  to  have  thy  fever ;  and  see  that  it  look 
away  from  the  north,  so  that  thou  be  not  chilled. 
But  thou  seemest  to  me  to  wish  to  retreat  into 
somebody's  house  and  spend  thy  time  there,  and 
be  fed.     What  hast  thou  to  do  with  undertaking 
so  great  a  matter  ? 

14.  But  marriage,  said  he,  and  the  hegetting  of 
children,— are  these  to  he  received  hy  the  Cynic 
among  his  chief  purposes  ? 

Give  me,  said  Epictetus,  a  city  of  wise  men, 
and  perhaps  no  one  will  easily  come  to  the  Cynic 


ill 


60 


EPICTETU8. 


THE  CYNIC. 


61 


way:   for  whose  sake  should  he  embrace   it? 
However,  if  we  do  suppose  such  a  thing,  there 
is  nothing  to  hinder  his  marrying  and  begetting 
children  ;  for  his  wife  will  be  even  such  another, 
and   his  father-in-law    such   another,    and   thus 
will  his  children  be   brought  up.     But  things 
being  as  they  now  are,  as  it  were  in   order  of 
battle,  must  not  the  Cynic  be  given  wholly  and 
undistracted  to  the  service  of  God.  being  able  to 
go  about  among  men,  and  not  bound  to  private 
duties,  nor  entangled  in  ties  which,  if  he  trans- 
gress, he  can  no  longer  preserve  the  aspect  of 
honesty  and  goodness :  and  if  he  obey  them,  he 
hath   lost   that   of  the  missionary,  the  spy,  the 
herald  of  the  Gods  ?     For  see  !  he  must  needs  ob- 
serve a  certain  conduct  towards  his  father-in-law, 
and  he  hath  somewhat  to  render  also  to  the  rest 
of  his  wife's  kin  and  to  his  wife  herself.     And 
for  the  rest,  he  is  shut  off  from  Cynicism  by  the 
care  for  sickness,  or  means  of  livelihood.     For 
one  thing  alone,  he  must  have  a  vessel  for  warm- 
ing  water  for  his   little   child,  where  he  may 
wash  it  in  the  bath ;  and  wool  for  his  wife  when 
she  has  been  delivered,  and  oil,  and  a  couch,  and 
a  drinking  cup— already  a  number  of  utensils— 
and  other  affairs  and  distractions.     Where  shall 
1  thenceforth  find  that  king,  whose  whole  busi- 
ness is  the  common  weal  ? 

''  Warden  of  men,  and  with  so  many  cares  "— (IZ.  ii.  25.), 

on  whom  it  lies  to  oversee  all  men,  the  married, 
iind  parents,  and  who  useth  his  wife  well,  and 
who  ill,  and  who  wrangles,  and  what  household 
is  well-ordered,  and  what  not ;  going  about  as  a 
])hvsician,  and  feeling  pulses— •' thou  hast  a 
fever,  thou  a  headache,  thou  the  gout;  do  thou 
fast,  do  thou  eat,  do  thou  avoid  the  bath,  thou 
needest  the  knife,  thou  the  cautery  ?  "  Where 
is  the  place  for  leisnre  to  one  who  is  bound  to 
private  duties?     Must  he  not  provide  raiment 


for  his  children  ?  yea,  and  send  them  to  the 
schoolmaster  with  their  tablets  and  writing  in- 
struments ?  and  have  a  bed  ready  for  tliem,  since 
a  man  cannot  be  a  Cynic  from  the  womb  ?  Else 
were  it  better  to  cast  them  away  at  once  than 
kill  them  in  this  way.  See,  now,  to  what  we 
have  brought  our  Cynic— iiow  we  have  taken 
away  his  kingship  from  him  !  True,  hut  Crates 
married.  Thou  speakest  of  a  circumstance  that 
arose  from  love,  and  adducest  a  wife  who  was 
another  Crates.^^  But  our  inquiry  is  concerning 
common  marriages,  and  how  men  may  be  undis- 
tracted ;  and  thus  inquiring,  we  do  not  find  it, 
in  this  condition  of  the  world,  a  purpose  of 
chief  concern  for  a  Cynic. 

15.  jffoiv.  theuj  said  he,  shall  he  still  he  preserv- 
ing the  community  ?  God  help  thee !  Whether 
do  they  best  serve  mankind  who  fill  their 
own  place  by  bringing  into  the  world  two  or 
three  screaming  children,  or  those  who,  as  far 
as  they  may,  oversee  all  men,  w^hat  they  do, 
how  they  live,  wherewith  they  concern  them- 
selves, and  what  duties  they  neglect  ?  And  were 
tlie  Thebans  more  benefited  by  as  many  as  left 
their  httle  children  behind,  or  by  Epaminondas, 
who  died  childless  ?  And  did  Priam,  who  be- 
gat fifty  good-for-nothing  sons,  or  Danaus,  or 
^olus,  ^2  better  serve  the  community  than 
Homer  ?  Shall,  then,  the  command  of  an  army 
or  the  writing  of  poems  withdraw  a  man  from 
marriage  and  fatherhood,  and  he  shall  not  be 
thought  to  have  gained  nothing  for  his  childless- 
ness, but  the  kingship  of  a  Cynic  shall  be  not 
worth  what  it  costs  ?  It-may  be  we  do  not  per- 
ceive his  greati^ess,  nor  do  we  worthily  conceive 
of  the  character  of  Diogenes ;  but  we  tnrn  away 
our  eyes  to  the  pi-esent  Cynics,  "  watch-dogs  of 
the  dining-room,"  ^^  who  in  nothing  resemble 
those  others,  save  perchance  in  breaking  wind  ; 
but  in  no  other   thing.     For  else  these   things 


i 


EPICTETUS. 

would  not  have  moved  us,  nor  should  we  have 
marvelled  if  a  Cynic  will  not  marry  nor  beget 
children.  Man !  he  hath  begotten  all  mankind, 
he  hath  all  men  for  his  sons,  all  women  for  his 
daughters  ;  so  doth  he  visit  all  and  care  for  all. 
Thinkest  thou  that  he  is  a  mere  meddler  and 
busybody  in  rebuking  those  whom  he  meets  ? 
As  a  father  he  doth  it,  as  a  brother,  and  as  ser- 
vant of  the  Universal  Father,  which  is  God. 

16.  If  it  please  thee,  ask  of  me  also  whether 
he  shall  have  to  do  with  affairs  of  public  polity  ? 
Fool !  dost  thou  seek  a  greater  polity  than  that 
in  whose  affairs  he  is  already  concerned  ?  Will 
it  be  greater  if  he  come  forward  among  the 
Athenians  to  sav  something  about  ways  or  means 
—he,  whose  part  it  is  to  discourse  with  all  men, 
Athenians,  Corinthians,  Komans  alike,  not  con- 
cerning means  or  ways,  nor  concerning  peace  or 
war,  but  about  happiness  and  unhappiness,  about 
good-fortune  and  ill-fortune,  about  slavery  and 
freedom  ?  And  of  a  man  that  hath  his  part  in 
so  great  a  polity  will  you  ask  me  if  he  shall  at- 
tend to  public  affairs  f  Ask  me  also  if  he  shall 
be  a  ruler ;  and  again  I  shall  say.  Thou  fool, 
what  rule  can  be  greater  than  his  ? 

17.  And  to  such  a  man  there  is  need  also  of  a 
certain  kind  of  body.  For  if  he  shall  appear 
consumptive,  meagre  and  pale,  his  witness  hath 
not  the  same  emphasis.  Not  only  by  showing 
forth  the  things  of  the  spirit  must  he  convince 
foolish  men  that  it  is  possible,  without  the  things 
tliat  are  admired  of  tliem,  to  be  good  and  wise, 
but  also  in  his  body  must  he  show  that  plain  and 
simple  and  open-air  lyung  are  not  mischievous 
even  to  the  body  :  "  Sehold,  even  of  this  I  am 
a  witness,  I  and  my  body."  So  Diogenes  ^yas 
wont  to  do,  for  he  went  about  radiant  with 
liealth,  and  with  his  very  body  he  turned  many 
to  good.  But  a  Cynic  that  men  pity  seems  to  be  a 
beggar— all  men  turn  away  from  him,  all  stumble 


THE  CYNIC.  63 

at  him.  For  he  must  not  appear  sqaalid;  so 
that  neither  in  this  respect  sliall  he  scare  men 
away;  but  his  very  austerity  should  be  cleanly 
and  pleasing.  "^ 

IS  Much  grace  of  body,  then,  must  belong  to 
the  Cynic,  and  also  quickness  of  mind,  else  he  is 
a  mere  clot  of  slime  and  nothing  else ;  for  he 
must  be  ready  and  apt  to  meet  all  that  may  be- 
tall  him.  Thus  when  one  said  to  Diogenes  : 
Ihou  art  that  Diogenes  who  thinkest  there  are 
no  (rods,  he  replied,  And  how  may  that  he,  see- 
ing  1  hold  thee  hateful  to  the  Godsf  And 
again,  when  Alexander  stood  beside  him,  as  lie 
was  lying  asleep,  and  said : 

''  Not  all  night  must  a  man  of  counsel  sleep," 

he  answered,  ere  he  was  yet  awake : 

*'  Warden  of  men,  and  with  so  many  cares."  i* 

19.  But  before  all  things  must  his  ruling 
faculty  be  purer  tlian  the  sun,  else  he  must 
needs  be  a  gambler  and  cheater,  who,  being  him- 
self entangled  in  some  iniquity,  will  reprove 
others.  For,  see  how  the  matter  stands:  to 
these  kings  and  tyrants,  their  spearmen  and  their 
arms  give  the  office  of  reproving  men,  and  the 
power  to  punish  transgressors,  yea,  though  they 
themselves  be  evil ;  but  to  the  Cynic,  instead  of 
arms  and  spearmen,  his  conscience  giveth  this 
power.  When  he  knows  that  he  has  watched 
and  labored  for  men,  and  lain  down  to  sleep  in 
purity,  and  sleep  hath  left  him  yet  purer;  and 
that  his  thoughts  have  been  the  thoughts  of  one 
dear  to  the  Gods,  of  a  servant,  and  a  sharer 
in  the  rule  of  Zeus;  and  he  hath  had  ever  at 
hand  that 

**  Lead  me,  O  Zeus,  and  thou  Destiny."  i» 
and, 

"  If  thus  it  be  pleasing  to  the  Gods,  so  may  it  be  "— 

wherefore,  then,  shall  he  not  take  Ii^art  to  speak 


il 


64 


EPICTETUS. 


boldly  to  his  brothers,  to  his  children,  in  a  word, 
to  all  his  kin  ?  For  tliis  reason,  he  that  is  in  this 
state  is  no  meddler  or  busybody,  for  when  he 
overlooks  human  affairs  he  meddles  not  with 
foreiirn  matters,  but  with  his  own  affairs.  Else, 
name'  the  general  a  busybody  when  he  overlooks 
his  soldiers,  and  reviews  them,  and  watches 
them,  and  punishes  the  disorderly.  But  if  you 
have  a  flat  cake  under  your  cloak  while  you  re- 
prove others,  I  say,  get  hence  rather  into  a  cor- 
ner, and  eat  what  thou  hast  stolen— what  are 
other  men's  concerns  to  thee?  For  what  art 
thou— the  bull  of  the  herd  ?  or  the  queen  bee  ? 
Show  me  the  tokens  of  thy  supremacy,  such  as 
nature  hath  given  her.  But  if  thou  art  a  drone 
claiming  sovereignty  over  the  bees,  thinkest 
thou  not  that  thy  fellow-citizens  will  overthrow 
thee,  as  bees  do  the  drones? 

20.  And  truly  the  Cynic  must  be  so  long-suf- 
fering as  that  he  shall  seem  to  the  nmltitude  in- 
sensate and  a  stone.     Him  doth  none  revile,  nor 
smite,  nor  insult ;  but  his  body  hath  he  given  to 
rjiy  man  to  use  at  will.     For  he  remembers  that 
the  worse  must  needs  be  vanquished  by  the  bet- 
ter, whereinsoever  it  is  the  worse ;  and  the  body 
is  worse  than  the  multitude— the  weaker  than  the 
stronger.     Never,  then,  doth  he  go  down  to  any 
contest  where  it  is  possible   for  him  to  be  van^ 
quished,  but  he  yields  up  all  that  is  not  his  own, 
and  contends  for  nothing  that  is  subject  to  others. 
But  where  there  is  question  of  the  will  and  the 
use  of  appearances,  then  you  shall  see  how  many 
eyes  he  hath,  so  that  you  may  say  that  eouipared 
with  him  Argus  was  blind.     Is  his  assent  ever 
hasty  ;  or  his^desire  idle  ;  or  his  pursuit  in  vain  ; 
or  his  avoidance  unsuccessful ;  or  his  aim  unful- 
tilled  ?  doth  he  ever  blame,  or  cringe,  or  envy  ? 
This  is  his  great  study  and  his  design  ;  but  as 
rciTcirds  all  other  things,  he  lies  on  his  back  and 
snores,  for  all  is  peace!     There  is  no  thief  of  his 


THE  CYNIC. 


65 


will,  nor  tyrant ;  but  of  his  body  t  yea;  and  of 
his  chattels  ?  yea,  and  also  of  his  authority  and 
his  honors.  What,  then,  are  these  things  to 
him  ?  So  when  one  may  seek  to  make  hiin 
afraid  on  account  of  them, — Go  hence^  he  saith  to 
Www,  and  fold  out  little  children  ;  it  is  to  ihe^c 
that  masks  arc  dreadful,  hut  I  hiow  they  are 
made  of  clay,  and  that  inside  them  there  is  noth- 
ing, 

21.  On  such  a  matter  art  thou  now  meditating. 
Therefore,  if  it  please  thee,  in  God's  name  de- 
lay it  yet  awhile,  and  see  iirst  what  ability  thou 
hast  for  it.  For  mark  what  Hector  speaks  to 
Andromache  :  Go,  he  saith,  rather  into  the  house 
and  weave — 

*'  For  war's  the  cure 
Of  every  man,  and  more  than  all  of  me." 

—II.  MX.  490. 

Thus  he  knew  where  lay  his  own  ability  and  her 
incapacity. 


END  OF  BOOK  I. 


BOOK  11. 

CHAPTER  I. 

ON  genttim:  and  boeeowed  beliefs. 

1.  The  master-argument  seems  to  start  from 
propositions  snch  as  these  :^  Tliere  being  a 
mutual  contradiction  among  these  three  proposi- 
tions— (1)  "  Every  past  event  is  necessarily  true," 
and  (2)  "  An  impossibility  cannot  follow  a  pos- 
sibility," and  (3)  "  Things  are  possible  which 
neither  are  nor  will  be  true,"  Diodorus,  perceiv- 
ing this  contradiction,  made  use  of  the  force  of 
the  first  two  in  order  to  prove  that  nothing 
is  possible  which  neither  is  nor  will  be  true. 
And,  again,  one  will  hold  these  two,  (3)  that  a 
thing  is  possible  which  neither  is  nor  will  be 
true,  and  (2)  that  an  impossibility  cannot  follow 
from  a  possibility  ;  but  by  no  means  that  every 
past  thing  is  necessarily  true,  and  thus  those  of 
the  school  of  Cleanthes  appear  to  think,  whom 
Antipater  strongly  defended.  But  some  hold 
the  other  two,  (3)  that  a  thing  is  possible  that 
neither  is  nor  will  be  true,  and  (1)  that  every 
past  event  is  necessarily  true ;  but  maintain  that 
an  impossibility  may  follow  from  a  possibility. 
But  all  three  it  is  impossible  to  hold  at  once,  be- 
cause of  their  mutual  contradiction. 

2.  Now,  if  any  one  inquire  of  me,  A7id  which 
of  these  dost  thou  hold?  I  shall  answer  him  that 
I  do  not  know,  but  1  have  received  this  account, 
that  Diodorus  holds  certain  of  them,  and  I  think 
the  followers  of  Panthoides  and  Cleanthes  cer- 
tain others,  and  those  of  Chrysippus  yet  others. 
And  th^jselff     Nay,  it  is  no  affair  of  mine  to 


o:n  genuine  and  borrowed  beliefs.  67 

try  my  own  thoughts,  and  to  compare  and  esti- 
mate statements,  and  to  form  some  opinion  of  my 
own  upon  the  matter.^    And  thus  I  differ  no 
whit  from  the  grammarians.     Who  was  Hector's 
father  ?    Priam..    And  his  brothers  ?    Alexari' 
der  and  Deipholus.     And   their  mother,   \vho 
was  she  ?    Ilecuha.     That  is  the  accoitnt  I  have 
received.     From  whom  ?     From  Homer;  and  I 
think  Ilellanicus  has  written  of  them,  and  may- 
he  others  too.     And  I ;  what  better  liave  I  to  say 
about  the  master  argument  ?     But  if  I  am  a  vain 
man,  and  especially  at  a  banquet,  I  shall  amaze 
all  the  company  by  recounting  those  who  have 
written   on    it;— for   Chrysippus   wrote    on   it 
wonderfully  in   his  first   book   "On   Possibili- 
ties;" and   Cleanthes  wrote  a  separate  treatise 
on  it,  and  so  did  Archedemus.     And  Antipater 
wrote  too,  not  only  in  his  book,  ''  On  Possibili- 
ties," but  also  separately  in  those  on  the  master 
argument.     Have  you  not  read  the  work  ?     No ! 
Then  read  it.     And  what  good  will  it  do  him 
to  read  it  ?    He  will  become  yet  more  of  a  bab- 
bler and  a  nuisance  than  he  is  now,  for  what 
else  hath  the  reading  of  it  done  for  you  ?    What 
opinion  have  you  formed  for  vourself  on  the 
matter?     Nay,  but  you  will  tell  us  all  about 
Helen,  and  Priam,  and  the  island  of  Calypso, 
that  never  existed,  nor  ever  will. 

3.  And  in  Homer,  indeed,  it  is  no  great  mat- 
ter if  you  have  simply  mastered  the  account; 
and  formed  no  opinion  of  your  own.  But  in 
ethics  this  is  even  much  more  often  the  case  than 
in  other  matters.  Tell  me  concerning  good  and 
evil  things !     Listen  to  him  then— 

"Me  to  Ciconia  brought  the  wind  from  Troy."8— Od.  ix.  39. 

0;f  things  some  are  good,  some  evil,  and  soms  in- 
different.  Now  the  good  things  are  the  virtues, 
and  those  that  have  the  nature  of  virtue,  and 
the  evil  things  the  vices,  and  those  that  hawe 


68 


EPICTETUS. 


the  nature  of  vice ;  and  the  i/ndif  event  things 
are  between  these^  as  wealthy  healthy  life^  deaths 
■pleasure,  affliction.  And  how  do  you  know 
this  ?  Because  Hellanicus  affirms  it  in  his  his- 
tory of  the  Egyptians ;  for  as  well  say  this  as 
that  Diogenes  has  it  in  his  Ethics,  or  Chrysip- 
pus,  or  Clean thes.  But  have  you  tested  any  of 
their  sayings,  and  formed  an  opinion  for  your- 
self ?  Show  me  how  you  are  wont  to  bear  a 
storm  at  sea.  Do  you  remember  the  difference 
between  good  and  evil  when"  the  sail  clatters, 
and  some  vexatious  man  comes  to  you  as  you  are 
shrieking,  and  says — 

''  Tell  me,  by  the  eods,  what  you  were 

lately  saying.  Is  it  any  vice  to  be  shipwrecked  ? 
Hath  it  anything  of  the  nature  of  vice  ? " 

Would  you  not  lay  hold  of  a  stick  and  shake 
it  in  his  face:  Let  us  alone,  7nan  ;  we  are  per- 
ishing, and  you  come  to  mock  us  !  And  do  you 
remember  the  difference  if  you  are  accused  of 
something  and  Csesar  sends  for  you?  If  one 
should  come  to  you  when  you  enter,  pale  and 
trembling,  and  should  say,  "  Wiiy  do  you  trem- 
ble, man  ?  what  is  your  business  concerned  with  ? 
Doth  Caesar  there  within  dispense  virtue  and 
vice  to  those  who  go  in  to  him  ? "  Why,  you  will 
say ;  must  you  too  mocTc  me  in  my  calamities  f 

"  Nevertheless,  tell  me,  O  Philosopher, 

why  you  tremble — is  it  not  merely  death  that 
you  are  in  danger  of,  or  imprisonment,  or 
bodily  suffering, "or  exile,  or  disgrace?  What 
else  ?     Is  it  any  vice  ?  or  anything  of  the  nature 

of  vice  ? 

And  you  will  reply  somewhat  to  this  effect : 
Let  me  alone,  man  /  my  own  evils  are  enough 

for  7)16. 

And  truly  you  say  well,  for  your  own  evils 
are  enough  for  you ;  which  are  meanness,  cow- 
ardice, and  your  false  pretences  when  you  sa^  \r\ 
\\\Q  school  of  philosophy,    Why  did  yoii  deck 


ON  GENUINE  AND  BORROWED  BELIEFS. 


69 


yourself  in   otliers'  glory  ?      Why  did  you  call 
yourself  a  Stoic  ? 

4.  Watch  yourselves  thus  in  the  things  that 
ye  do,  and  ye  shall  see  of  what  school  ye  are. 
And  the  most  of  you  will  be  found  Epicureans 
but  some  few  Peripatetics,*  and  those  but  slack! 
For  where   is  the   proof   that   ye    hold    virtue 
equal  to  all  otlier  things,  or  indeed  superior? 
Show  me  a  Stoic,  if  ye  have  one.     Where  or 
how   can   ye?      But    persons    that  repeat    the 
phrases  of  Stoicism,  of  these  ye  can  show  us  any 
number.     And    do   they  repeat    those    of  the 
Epicureans  any  worse  ?  and  are  they  not  equally 
accurate  in   the  Peripatetic  ?     Who  is,  then,  a 
Stoic?    As   we  say  that  a  statue  is  Pheidian 
which  is  wrought  according  to  the  art  of  Pheid- 
ias,  show  me  a  man  that  is  so  wrought  according 
to  the  opinions  he  utters  !     Show  me  one  that  is 
sick  and  yet  prosperous,  in  peril  and  prosperous, 
dying  and  prosperous,  in  exile  and  prosperous, 
m  evil  repute  and  prosperous.     Show  him  to  me ! 
by  the  Gods!  fain  would  I  see  a  Stoic  !     And 
have  ye  none  that  is  fully  wrought  out ;  then 
show  me  at  least  one   that  is  in  hand  to  be 
wrought— one  that  even  leaneth  towards  these 
things.  ^  Do  me  this  favor— grudge  not  an  old 
man  a  sight  that  I  have  never  seen  yet.     Think 
ye  that  I  would  have  you  show  me  the  Zeus  of 
Pheidias  or  the  Athene— a  work  all  ivory  and 
G^old  ?     Nay  ;  but  let  one  show  me  a  man's  soul 
that  longs  to  be  like-minded  with  God,  and  to 
blame  neither  Gods  nor  men,  and  not  to  fail  in 
any  effort  or  avoidance,  and  not  to  be  wrathful 
nor  envious,  nor  jealous,  but — for  why  should  I 
make  rounds  to  say  it?— that  desires  to  become 
a  God  from  a  man,  and  in  this  body  of  ours, 
this  corpse,  is  mindful  of  his   fellowship  with 
Zeus,     Show  me   that  man.     But  ye   cannot! 
Why,  then,  will  ye  mock  yourselves  and  cheat 
others?    Why  wrap  yourselves  in  others'  garb, 


70 


EPICTETUS. 


and  go  about,  like  thieves  that  steal  clothes  from 
the  bath,  with  names  and  things  that  in  nowise 
belong  to  you  ? 

5.  And  now  I  am  your  teacher  and  ye  are 
being  taught  by  me.  And  I  have  this  aim — to 
perfect  you,  that  ye  be  unhindered,  uncompelled, 
unembarrassed,  free,  prosperous,  happy,  looking 
unto  God  alone  in  all  tilings  great  and  small. 
And  ye  are  here  to  learn  these  things,  and  to  do 
them.*^  And  wherefore  do  ye  not  linieh  the 
work,  if  ye  have  indeed  such  an  aim  as  behoves 
you,  and  if  I,  besides  the  aim,  have  such  ability 
as  behoves  me  ?  What  is  here  lacking  ?  When 
I  see  a  carpenter,  and  the  wood  lying  beside 
him,  I  look  for  some  work.  And  now,  here  is 
the  carpenter,  here  is  the  wood — what  is  yet 
lacking  ?  Is  the  thing  such  as  cannot  be  taught  ? 
It  can.  Is  it,  then,  not  in  our  power?  Yea, 
this  alone  of  all  things  is.  Wealth  is  not  in  our 
power,  nor  health,  nor  repute,  nor  any  other 
thing,  save  only  the  right  use  of  appearances. 
This  alone  is  by  nature  unhindered ;  this  alone 
is  unembarrassed.  Wherefore,  then,  will  ye  not 
make  an  end?  Tell  me  the  reason.  For  either 
the  fault  lies  in  me,  or  in  you,  or  in  the  nature 
of  the  thing.  But  the  thing  itself  is  possible, 
and  indeed  the  only  thing  that  is  in  our  power. 
It  remains  that  I  am  to  blame,  or  else  ye  are ; 
or,  to  speak  more  truly,  both  of  us.  What  will 
ye,  then  ?  Let  us  at  length  begin  to  entertain 
such  a  purpose  among  us,  and  let  the  past  be 
past.  Only  let  us  make  a  beginning :  trust  in 
me,  and  ye  shall  see. 


THE  GAME  OF  LIFE, 


71 


CHAPTER  IL 

THE   GAME   OF   LIFE. 

^  1.  TifTife  ttbove  all  is  the  task  of  Nature— to 
bind  and  harmonize  together  the  force  of  the 
appearances  of  the  Eight  and  of  the  Useful. 

2.  Things  are  indifferent,  but  the  uses  of 
them  are  not  indifferent.  How,  then,  shall  one 
preserve  at  once  both  a  steadfast  and  tranquil 
mind,  and  also  carefulness  of  things,  that  he  be 
not  heedless  or  slovenly  ?  If  he  take  example 
of  dice  players.  The  numbers  are  indifferent, 
the  dice  are  indifferent.  How  can  I  tell  what 
may  be  thrown  up  ?  But  carefully  and  skillfully 
to  make  use  of  what  is  thrown,  that  is  where  my 
proper  business  begins.  And  this  is  the  great 
task  of  life  also,  to  discern  things  and  divide 
them,  and  say,  "  Outward  things  are  not  in  my 
power ;  to  will  is  in  my  power.  Where  shall  I 
seek  the  Good,  and  where  the  Evil  ?  Within 
me— in  all  that  is  my  own."  Eut  of  all  that  is 
alien  to  thee  call  nothing  good  nor  evil  nor  prof- 
itable nor  hurtful,  nor  any  such  term  as  these. 

3.  What  then  ?  should  we  be  careless  of  such 
things  ?  In  no  wise.  For  this,  agani,  is  a  vice 
in  the  Will,  and  thus  contrary  to  Nature.  But 
be  at  once  careful,  because  the  use  of  things  is 
not  indifferent,  and  steadfast  and  tranquil  be- 
cause the  things  themselves  are.  For  where 
there  is  aught  that  concerns  me,  there  none  can 
hinder  or  compel  me ;  and  in  those  things  where 
I  am  hindered  or  compelled  the  attainment  is 
not  in  my  power,  and  is  neither  good  nor  evil ; 
but  my  use  of  the  event  is  either  evil  or  good, 
and  this  is  in  my  power.  And  hard  it  is,  in- 
deed, to  mingle  and  reconcile  together  the  cafe- 
fulness  of  one  whom  outward  things  affect,  with 
the  steadfastness  of  him  who  regards  them  not. 


72 


EPICTETUS. 


Eiit  impossible  it  is  not ;  and  if  it  is,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  be  bappy. 

4.  Give  me  one  man  that  cares  bow  be  sball 
do  anvtbino: — tbat  tbinks  not  of  tbe  ojaininfi:  of 
tlie  tbing,  but  tbinks  of  bis  own  energy. 

•  5.  Cbrysippus,  therefore,  said  well — '"  As  long 
as  future  things  are  bidden  from  me,  I  bold  al- 
ways by  whatever  state  is  the  most  favorable  for 
gaining  tbe  things  tbat  are  according  to  Nature ; 
for  God  himself  gave  it  to  me  to  make  such 
choice.  But  if  I  knew  that  it  were  now  or- 
dained for  me  to  be  sick,  I  would  even  move  to 
it  of  myself.  For  tbe  foot,  too,  if  it  had  intelli- 
gence, would  move  of  itself  to  be  mired." 

6.  For  to  what  end,  think  you,  are  ears  of 
corn  produced  ?  Is  it  not  tbat  they  may  become 
dry  and  parched?  And  the  reason  they  are 
parched,  is  it  not  that  they  may  be  reaped  ?  for 
it  is  not  to  exist  for  themselves  alone  that  tliey 
come  into  the  world.  If,  then,  they  bad  percep- 
tion, would  it  be  proper  for  them  to  pray  tbat 
they  should  never  be  reaped  ?  since  never  to  be 
reaped  is  for  ears  of  corn  a  curse.  So  under- 
stand that  for  men  it  is  a  curse  not  to  die,  jnst 
as  not  to  be  ripened  and  not  to  be  reaped.  But 
we,  since  we  are  both  the  things  to  be  reaped 
and  are  also  conscious  tbat  we  shall  be  reaped, 
have  indignation  thereat.  For  we  know  not  what 
we  are,  nor  have  we  studied  what  concerns 
humanity,  as  those  tbat  have  tbe  care  of  horses 
study  what  concerns  them.  But  Chrysantas, 
when  just  about  to  smite  the  enemy,  forbore  on 
liearing  the  trumpet    sounding  liis   recall ;    so 

much  better  did  it  seem  to  him  to  obev  tbe  com- 

t/ 

mander's  order  than  to  do  his  own  will.  But  of 
us  not  one  will  follow  with  docility  tbe  summons 
even  of  necessity,  but  weeping  and  groaning  tbe 
things  tbat  we  suffer,  we  suffer,  calling  them  our 
doom.^  What  doom,  man?  If  by  doom  you 
mean  tbat  which  is  doomed  to  happen  to  us, 


THE  GAME  OF  LIFE. 


73 


then  we  are  doomed  in  all  things.  But  if  only 
our  afflictions  are  to  be  called  doom,  then  what 
affliction  is  it  that  that  which  has  come  into 
being  should  perish?  But  we  perish  by  the 
sword,  or  the  wheel,  or  the  sea,  or  the  tile  of 
a  roof,  or  a  tyrant.  What  matters  it  by  what 
road  thou  goest  down  into  Hades  ?  they  are  all 
equal.  But  if  thou  wilt  hear  the  truth,  tbe  way 
the  tyrant  sends  thee  is  t\\Q  shortest.  -N'ever  did 
any  tyrant  cut  a  man's  throat  in  six  months,  but 
a  fever  will  often  be  a  year  killing  him.  All 
these  thing  are  but  noise,  and  a  clatter  of  empty 
names. 

7.  But  let  us  do  as  in  setting  out  on  a  voyage. 
What  is  it  possible  for  me  to  do?      This — to 
choose  the  captain,  crew,  the  day,  the  opportu- 
nity.    Then  a  tempest  has  burst  upon  us;  l^ut 
what  doth  it  concern  me  ?     I  have  left  nothing 
undone  that  was  mine  to  do ;  the  problem  is  now 
another's,  to  wit,  the  captain's.     But  now  the 
ship  is  sinking!  and  what  have  I  to  do?  I  do 
only  what  I  am  able — drown  without  terror  and 
screaming  and  accusing  of  God,  but  knowing 
that  that  wliich  has  come  into  being  must  also 
perish.     For  I  am  no  Immortal,  but  a  man,  a 
part  of  tbe  sum  of  things  as  an  hour  is  of  the 
day.     Like  the  hour  I  must  arrive,  and,  like  the 
hour,  pass  away.     What,  then,  can  it  matter  to 
me  bow  I  pass  away — whether  by  drowning  or 
by  a  fever  ?  for  pass  I  must,  even  by  some  such 
thing.     Now,  this  is  what  you  shall  see  done  by 
skilful  ball-players.     None  careth  for  the  ball  as 
it  were  a  thing  good  or  bad ;  but  only  about 
throwing  it  and  catching  it.     In  this,  tlien,  there 
is  rule,  in  this  art,  quickness,  judgment;  so  that 
1  may  fail  of  catching  tbe  ball,  even  if  I  spread 
out   my  lap,  and  another,  if  I  throw  it,  may 
catch  it.     But  if  I  am  anxious  and  nervous  as  I 
catch  and  throw,  what  kind  of  play  is  this?  how 
shall  one  be  steady  ?  how  sliall  he  observe  tbe 


74 


EPICTETUS. 


THINGS  ABE  WHAT  THEY  ARE. 


75 


order  of  the  game?  One  will  call  ''Throw," 
"  Do  not  throw,"  and  anotlier,  "  You  have 
thrown  once."     But  tliis  is  strife  and  not  play. 

8.  Thus  Socrates  knew  how  to  play  ball.  How  ? 
When  he  jested  in  the  court  of  justice.  "  Tell 
me,  Anytus,"  he  said,  "  how  say  you  that  I  be- 
lieve there  is  no  God  ?  The  Daemons,  who  are 
they,  think  you?  Are  they  not  sons  of  God,  or 
a  mixed  nature  between  Gods  and  men  ? "  And 
when  this  was  admitted — "  Who,  do  you  think, 
can  hold  that  nniles  exist,  but  not  asses  ? "  ^  And 
thus  he  played  with  the  ball.  And  what  was 
the  ball  that  was  there  thrown  abmit  among 
them?  Life,  chains,  exile,  a  draught  of  poison,  to 
be  torn  from  a  wife,  to  leave  children  orphans. 
These  were  the  things  anjong  them  that  they 
played  withal ;  yet  none  the  less  did  he  play,  and 
flung  the  ball  with  proper  grace  and  measure. 
And  so  should  we  do  also,  having  the  careful- 
ness of  the  most  zealous  players,  and  yet  indiffer- 
ence, as  were  it  merely  about  a  ball. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THINGS   ARE   WHAT   THEY   ARE. 

1.  Each  thing  that  allures  the  mind,  or  offers 
an  advantage,  or  is  loved  by  you,  remember  to 
speak  of  it  as  it  is,  from  the  smallest  things  up- 
ward. If  you  love  an  earthen  jar,  then  think,  / 
love  an  earthen  jar^  for  so  shall  you  not  be 
troubled  when  it  breaks.  And  when  you  kiss 
your  little  child  or  wife,  think,  IMss  a  mortal ; 
and  so  shall  you  not  be  troubled  when  they  die. 

2.  Wlien  you  are  about  to  take  in  hand  some 
action,  bethink  you  what  it  is  that  you  are  about 
to  do.  If  you  go  to  the  bath,  represent  to  your- 
self all  that  takes  place  there — the  squirting  of 
Avater,  the  slapping,  the  scolding,  the  pilfering ; 
and  then  shall  you  take  the  matter  in  hand  more 


safely,  saying  straightway  :  /  desire  to  he 
hathed^  and  maintain  7iiy purpose  according  to 
Mature.  And  even  so  with  each  and  every 
action.  For  thus,  if  aught  should  occur  to  cross 
you  in  your  bathing,  this  thought  shall  be 
straightway  at  hand  :  But  not  this  alone  did  I 
desire ;  hut  also  to  maintain  my  purpose  ac- 
cording to  Nature.  And  I  shall  not  maintain 
it  if  I  have  indignation  at  what  happens  here. 

3.  The  first  difference  between  the  vulgar 
man  ^  and  the  philosopher :  The  one  saith.  Woe 
is  me.,  for  my  child^  m>y  hrother^  woe  for  my 

father ;  but  the  other,  if  ever  he  shall  be  com- 
pelled to  say,  ^Yoe  is  me^  checks  himself  and 
saith,  for  myself.  For  nothing  that  the  AVill 
willeth  not  can  hinder  or  hurt  the  AVill,  but  it- 
self only  can  hurt  itself.  If  then,  indeed,  we 
too  incline  to  this,  that  when  we  are  afflicted  we 
accuse  ourselves,  and  recollect  that  nothing  else 
than  Opinion  can  cause  us  any  trouble  or  un- 
settlement,  I  swear  by  all  the  Gods  we  have 
advanced !  But  as  it  is,  we  have  from  the  be- 
ginning travelled  a  different  road.  While  we 
are  still  children,  if  haply  we  stumbled  as  we 
were  gaping  about,  the  nurse  did  not  chide  us, 
but  beat  the  stone.  For  what  had  the  stone 
done?  Ought  it  to  have  moved  out  of  the  way, 
for  your  child's  folly  ?  Again,  if  we  find  noth- 
ing to  eat  after  coming  from  the  bath,  never 
doth  the  tutor  check  our  desire,  but  he  beats  the 
cook.  Man,  we  did  not  set  thee  to  be  a  tutor  of 
the  cook,  but  of  our  child — him  shall  you  train, 
him  improve.  And  thus,  even  when  full- 
grown,  we  appear  as  children.  For  a  child  in 
in  music  is  he  who  hath  not  learned  music,  and 
in  letters,  one  who  hath  not  learned  letters,  and 
in  life,  one  undisciplined  in  philosophy. 

4.  It  is  not  things,  but  the  opinions  about  the 
things,  that  trouble  mankind.  Thus  Death  is 
nothing  terrible ;  if  it    were  so,  it  would  have 


78 


EPICTETUS. 


THREE  STEPS  TO  PERFECTION. 


W 


appeared  so  to  Socrates.  But  tlie  opinion  we 
have  about  Death,  that  it  is  terrible,  that  is 
wherein  the  terror  lieth.  Wlien,  therefore,  we 
are  hindered  or  troubled  or  grieved,  never  let  us 
blame  any  other  than  ourselves ;  that  is  to  say, 
our  opinions.  A  man  undisciplined  in  philoso- 
phy blames  others  in  matters  in  which  he  fares 
ill ;  one  who  begins  to  be  disciplined  blames 
himself,  one  who  is  disciplined,  neither  others 
nor  himself. 

5.  Be  not  elated  in  mind  at  any  superiority 
that  is  not  of  yourself.  If  your  horse  were 
elated  and  should  say,  7  a?7^  beautiful^  that 
would  be  tolerable.  But  when  you  are  elated, 
and  say,  I  have  a  beautiful  horse,  know  that  it 
is  at  an  excellence  in  your  horse  that  you  are 
elated.  What,  then,  is  your  own?  This — to 
make  use  of  the  appearances.  So  that  when 
you  deal  according  to  Nature  in  the  use  of  ap- 
pearances, then  shall  you  be  elated,  for  you  will 
then  be  elated  at  an  excellence  that  is  your  own. 


CHAPTER  IV.       ^ 

THREE   STEPS   TO   PERFECTION. 

1.  There  are  three  divisions  of  Philosophy 
w^herein  a  man  must  exercise  himself  who  would 
be  wise  and  good.^ 

The  first  concerns  his  pursuit  and  avoidance, 
so  that  he  may  not  fail  of  aught  that  he  would 
attain,  nor  fall  into  aught  that  he  would  avoid. 

The  second  concerns  his  desires  and  aversions, 
and,  generally,  all  that  it  becomes  a  man  to  be, 
so  that  he  bear  himself  orderly  and  prudently 
and  not  heedlessh^ 

The  third  is  that  which  concerns  security  from 
delusion  and  hasty  apprehension,  and,  generally, 
the  assenting  to  appearances. 

Of  these  the  chief  and  most  urgent  is  that 


which  hath  to  do  with  the  passions,^  for  the 
passions  arise  in  no  other  way  than  by  our  fail- 
ing in  endeavor  to  attain  or  to  avoid  something. 
Tliis  it  is  which  brings  in  troubles  and  tumults 
and  ill-luck  and  misfortune,  that  is  the  cause  of 
griefs  and  lamentations  and  envies,  that  makes 
envious  and  jealous  men;  by  which  things  we 
become  unable  even  to  hear  the  doctrines  of 
reason. 

The  second  concerns  that  which  is  becoming 
to  a  man  ;  for  I  must  not  be  passionless,^  like  a 
statue,  but  maintain  all  relations  natural  and 
acquired,  as  a  religious  being,  as  a  son,  as  a 
brother,  as  a  father,  as  a  citizen. 

The  third  is  that  which  concerns  men  as  soon 
as  they  are  making  advance  in  philosophy,  which 
provides  for  the  security  of  the  two  others ;  so 
that  not  even  in  dreams  may  any  appearance 
that  approacheth  us  pass  untested,  nor  in  wine, 
nor  in  ill-humors.  This,  a  man  may  say,  is  be- 
yond us.  But  the  philosophers  of  this  day,  pass- 
ing by  the  first  and  second  parts  of  philosophy, 
occupy  themselves  in  the  third,  cavilling,  and 
arguing  by  questions,  and  constructing  hypothe- 
ses and  fallacies.  For,  they  say,  when  dealing 
with  these  subjects  a  man  must  guard  himself 
from  delusion.  Who  must  ?  The  wise  and  good 
man. 

2.  And  this  security  is  all  you  lack,  then  ;  the 
rest  you  have  wrought  out  already  ?  You  are 
not  to  be  imposed  upon  by  money  ?  and  if  you 
see  a  fair  girl  you  can  hold  out  against  the  ap- 
pearance ?  and  if  your  neighbor  inherits  a  legacy 
you  are  not  envious?  there  is  now,  in  short, 
nothing  lacking  to  you  except  to  confirm  what 
you  have  ?  Wretch !  these  very  things  dost  thou 
hear  in  fear  and  anxiety  lest  some  one  may  de- 
spise thee,  and  inquiring  what  men  say  about 
thee.  And  if  some  one  come  and  tell  you  that 
when  it  was  discussed  who  was  the  best  of  the 


78 


EPICTETUS. 


])liilosophers,  one  present  said,  Such  a  one  is  the 
(/reatest  philosopher  J  your  little  soul  will  grow  up 
from  a  Bnger's  breadth  to  two  cubits.  And  if 
anotlier  who  was  present  said,  JV^othing  of  the 
Tcind  ;  it  is  not  icorth  while  to  listen  to  him  ;  for 
what  does  he  know  ?  he  has  made  a  beginning  in 
l^hilosophy^  and  no  move^  you  are  amazed,  you 
grow  pale,  and  straightway  you  cry  out,  1  will 
show  him  who  1  am^  that  I  am,  a  great  phi- 
losoj>her. 

Out  of  these  very  things  it  is  seen  what  you 
are ;  why  do  you  desire  to  show  it  by  any  others  ? 


CHAPTER  V. 

THAT  A  MAN  MAY  BE  BOTH  BOLD  AND  FEARFUL. 

1.  To  SOME  it  may  perchance  seem  a  paradox, 
this  axiom  of  the  philosophers  ;  yet  let  us  make 
the  best  inquiry  we  can  if  it  be  true  that  it  is 
possible  to  do  all  things  at  once  with  fearfulness 
and  with  boldness.  For  fearfulness  seemeth  in 
a  manner  contrary  to  boldness,  and  contraries 
can  never  coexist.  But  that  which  to  many 
seemeth  a  paradox  in  this  matter  seems  to  me  to 
stand  somehow  thus :  If  we  affirmed  that  botli 
fearfulness  and  boldness  could  be  used  in  the  very 
same  things,  they  would  justly  accuse  us  that  we 
were  reconciling  what  is  irreconcilable.  But  now% 
Avhat  is  there  so  strano^e  in  this  saving  ?  For  if 
it  is  sound,  what  hath  been  so  often  both  af- 
firmed and  demonstrated,  that  the  essence  of  the 
Good  is  in  the  use  of  appearances,  and  even  so 
of  the  Evil,  and  things  uncontrollable  by  the  Will 
have  the  nature  neither  of  good  nor  of  evil,  what 
paradox  do  the  philosophers  affirm  if  they  say 
that  in  things  uncontrollable  by  the  Will,  then 
be  boldness  thy  part,  and  in  things  subject  to  the 
Will,  fearfulness.  For  if  Evil  lie  in  an  evil 
Will,  then  in  these  things  alone  is  it  right  to 


MAN  BOTH  BOLD  AND  FEARFUL. 


79 


use  fearfulness.  And  if  things  uncontrollable 
by  the  Will,  and  that  are  not  in  our  power,  are 
nothing  to  us,  then  in  these  things  we  should  use 
boldness.  And  thus  shall  we  be  at  one  time 
both  fearful  and  bold — yea,  and  bold  even 
through  our  fearfulness.  For  through  being 
fearful  in  things  that  are  veritably  evil  it  comes 
that  we  shall  be  bold  in  those  that  are  not  so. 

2.  But  we,  on  the  contrary,  fall  victims  as  deer 
do.     When  these  are  terrilied  and  fly  from  the 
scares,  whither  do  they  turn  and  to  what  do  they 
retreat  as  a  refuge  ?     To  the  nets :  and  thus  they 
perish,  confusing  things  to  fear  and  things  to  be 
bold  about.     And  thus  do  we  also.     Where  do 
we  employ  fear?     In  things  beyond  our  Will. 
And  wherein  do  we  act  boldly,  as  were  there 
nothing  to  dread  ?   In  things  subject  to  the  Will. 
To  be  beguiled,  then,  or  to  be  rash,  or  to  do  some 
shameless  ^ct,  or  with  base  greed  to  pursue  some 
object — these  things  concern  us  no  whit  if  we 
may  only  hit  the  mark  in   things  beyond  the 
Will.     But  where  death  is,  or  exile,  or  suffering, 
or  evilrepute,  there  we  run  away,  there  we  are 
scared.     Therefore,  as  it  were  to  be  looked  for  in 
those  who  are  astray  in  the  things  of  greatest 
moment,  we  work  out  our  natural  boldness  into 
swaggering,   abandonment,  rashness,  shameless- 
ness ;  and  our  natural  fearfulness  and  shamefast- 
ness  into  cowardice  and  meanness,  full  of  terror 
and  trouble.     For  if  one  should  transfer  his  fear- 
fulness to  the  realm  of  the  Will,  and  the  works 
thereof,  straightway,  together  with  the  intention 
of  fearing  to  do  wrong  he  shall  have  it  in  his 
power  to  avoid  doing  it ;   but  if  he  use  it  in 
things  out  of  our  own  power  and  beyond  the 
Will,  then  striving  to  avoid  things  that  are  in 
others'  power  he  shall  of  necessity  be  terrified 
and  unsettled  and  troubled.     For  death  is  not 
fearful,  nor  pain,  but  the  fear  of  pain  Or  death. 
And  thus  we  praise  liirn^  who  said : 


80 


EPICTETUS. 


w 


r 

'I- 

..1    ;  ' 


'iii! 


"  Fear  not  to  die,  but  fear  a  coward's  death." 

3.  It  is  right,  then,  that  we  should  turn  our 
boldness  against  death,  and  our  fearfuhiess 
against  the  fear  of  death.  But  now  we  do  tlie 
contrary :  death  we  flee  from,  but  as  to  the  state 
of  our  opinion  about  death  we  are  negh'gent, 
heedless,  indifferent.  These  things  Socrates  did 
well  to  call  bugbears.  For  as  to  children,  through 
their  inexperience,  ugly  masks  appear  terrible 
and  fearful ;  so  we  are  somewhat  in  the  same 
wav  moved  towards  the  affairs  of  life,  for  no 
other  cause  than  as  cliildren  are  affected  by  these 
bugbears.  For  what  is  a  child?  Ignorance. 
What  is  a  child  ?  That  which  has  never  learned. 
For  when  he  knows  tliese  things  he  is  nowise  in- 
ferior to  us.  What  is  deatli  ?  A  bugbear.  Turn 
it  round  ;  examine  it :  see,  it  does  not  bite.  Now 
or  later  that  which  is  body  must  be  parted  from 
that  whicli  is  spirit,  as  formerly  it  was  parted. 
Why,  tlien,  hast  thou  indignation  if  it  be  now? 
for  if  it  be  not  now,  it  will  be  later.  And  where- 
fore ?  That  the  cycle  of  the  world  may  be  f ul- 
iilled ;  for  it  hath  need  of  a  present  and  of  a  fu- 
ture and  of  a  past.  What  is  pain  ?  A  bugbear. 
Turn  it  about  and  examine  it.  This  poor  body 
is  moved  harshly,  then  again  softly.  If  thou 
hast  no  advantage  thereof,  the  door  is  open;^ 
if  thou  hast,  then  bear  it.  For  in  all  events  it  is 
right  that  the  door  should  stand  open,  and  so  have 
we  no  distress. 

4.  Shall  I,  then,  exist  no  longer?  Nay,  thou 
shalt  exist,  but  as  something  else,  whereof  the 
universe  hath  now  need.^  For  neither  didst 
thou  choose  thine  own  time  to  come  into  exist- 
ence, but  when  the  universe  had  need  of  thee. 

5.  What,  then,  is  the  fruit  of  these  opinions? 
That  which  ought  to  be  the  fairest  and  comeliest 
to  those  who  have  been  truly  taught, — tranquil- 
lity, courage,  and  freedom.  For  concerning  these 
things,  th^  multitude  nre  not  to  be  believed 


MAN  BOTH  BOLD  AND  FEARFUL.  81 

which  say  that  those  only  should  be  taught  who 
are  freemen,  but  the  philosophers  rather,  which 
say  that  those  only  are  free  who  have  been 
taught.  How  is  this  ?  It  is  thus— Is  freedom 
anything  else  than  the  power  to  live  as  we 
choose  ?^  Nothing  else.  Do  ye  choose,  then,  to 
live  in  sin  ?  We  do  not  choose  it.  None,  there- 
fore, that  fears  or  grieves  or  is  anxious  is  free  ; 
but  whosoever  is  released  from  griefs  and  fears 
and  anxieties  is  by  that  very*  thing  released 
from  slavery.  How,  then,  shall  we  still  believe 
you,  most  excellent  legislators,  when  ye  say, 
*'  We  permit  none  to  be  taught  save  free- 
men ? "  *  For  the  philosophers  say,  '•  We  per- 
mit none  to  be  free  save  those  who  have  been 
taught"— that  is,  God  permits  it  not.  So, 
when  a  man  turns  round  his  slave  before  the 
Prmtor^  has  he  done  nothing  ?  He  has  done 
something.  And  what  ?  He  has  tui-ned  round 
his  slave  before  the  Praetor.  Nothing  else  at  all  f 
Yea,  this  too — he  must  pay  for  him  the  tax  of 
the  twentieth.  What  then  ?  has  the  man  thus 
treated  not  gained  his  freedom  ?  No  more  than 
he  has  gained  tranquillity  of  mind.  For  thou, 
who  art  able  to  emancipate  others,  hast  thou  no 
master  ?  is  money  not  thy  master,  or  lust,  or  a 
tyrant,  or  some  friend  of  a  tyrant  ?  Why,  then, 
dost  thou  tremble  when  thou  art  to  meet  with 
some  affliction  in  this  kind  ?  And  therefore  I 
say  oftentimes,  be  these  things  your  study,  be 
these  things  ever  at  your  hand,  wherein  ye  should 
be  bold  and  wherein  fearful ;  bold  in  things  be- 
yond the  Will,  fearful  in  things  subiect  to  the 
Will. 


a^ 


EPICTETUS. 


CHAPTER  VI.^ 

THE   WISE   man's   FEAR   AND   THE    FOOl's. 

1.  The  appearances  by  wliicli  the  mind  of  man 
is  smitten  Avitli  the  first  aspect  of  a  tliinor  as  it 
approaches  tlie  soul,  are  not  matters  of  tlie  will. 
nor  can  we  control  them  ;  bnt  by  a  certain  forco 
of  their  own  the  objects  which  we  have  to  com- 
prehend are  borne  in  upon  ns.  But  that  ratifica- 
tion of  them,  which  we  name  assent,  whereby 
the  appearances  are  comprehended  and  judged, 
these  are  voluntary,  and  are  done  by  human 
choice.  Wherefore  at  a  sound  from  the  heavens, 
or  from  the  downfall  of  so  iiething,  or  some  sig- 
nal of  danger,  or  anything  else  of  this  kind,  it 
must  needs  be  that  tiie  soul  of  the  philosopher 
too  shall  be  somewhat  moved,  and  he  shall  shrink 
and  grow  pale  ;  not  through  any  opinion  of  evil 
that  he  has  formed,  but:  through  certain  rapid 
and  unconsidered  motions  that  forestall  the  office 
of  the  mind  and  reason.  Soon,  however,  that 
philosopher  doth  not  approve  the  appeai-ances  to 
be  truly  objects  of  terror  to  his  soul, — that  is  to 
say,  he  assents  not  to  them  nor  ratifies  them  ;  but 
he  rejects  them,  and  casts  them  out ;  nor  doth 
there  seem  to  be  in  them  anything  that  he  should 
fear.  But  in  this,  say  the  philosophers,  doth  the 
wise  man  differ  from  the  fool, — that  the  fool 
thinks  the  appearances  to  be  in  truth  even  so 
liarsh  and  rough  as  they  seemed  at  their  first 
shock  upon  the  soul ;  and  taking  them,  as  at  iirst, 
to  be  rightly  dreaded,  he  thus  ratifies  and  ap- 
proves them  by  his  assent.  The  philosopher, 
however,  thouirh  for  a  short  time  his  color  and 
countenance  have  been  changed,  doth  not  then 
assent,  but  he  retains  in  its  steadfastness  and 
vigor  the  opinion  he  ever  had  of  these  appear- 


APPEARANCES  FALSE  AND  TRUE, 


88 


ances,  that  they  are  in  no  wise  to  be  feared,  but 
affright  only  by  a  false  show  and  empty  threat. 

2.  Such  as  is  a  dish  of  water,  such  is  the  soul ; 
such  as  is  the  ray  of  light  that  f alleth  on  the 
same,  such  are  the  appearances.  When  the  water 
is  moved,  then  the  ray  seemeth  also  to  be  moved ; 
but  it  is  not  moved.  And  thus  when  a  man's 
mind  is  darkened  and  dizzy,  it  is  not  doctrines 
and  virtues  that  are  confounded,  but  the  spirit  on 
which  they  are  impressed.  And  if  that  is  re- 
stored, so  are  thev.^ 


CHAPTEK  VIL 

APPEARANCES  FALSE  AND  TRFE. 

1.  Appearances  exist  for  us  in  four  ways. 
Either  things  appear  even  as  they  are ;  or  hav- 
ing no  existence,  neither  do  they  appear  to  have 
it ;  or  they  exist,  and  appear  not ;  or  they  exist 
not,  and  yet  appear.  So,  in  all  these  cases,  to 
hit  the  mark  is  the  work  of  him  who  hath  been 
taught  in  philosophy. 

2.  But  whatever  it  be  that  afflicts  us,  it  is 
to  that  thing  that  the  remedy  is  to  be  applied. 
If  it  is  the  sophisms  of  the  Pyrrhonists  and 
Academics  ^  that  afflict  us,  to  them  let  us  apply 
the  remedy.  If  it  is  the  delusiveness  of  things, 
whereby  that  appeareth  to  be  good  which  is  not 
so,  let  us  to  that  seek  for  the  remedy.  If  a 
habit  afflicts  us,  against  that  must  we  endeavor 
to  find  some  remedy.  And  what  remedy  is  to 
be  found  against  a  habit  ?  The  contrary  habit. 
Thou  hearest  the  ignorant  when  they  say.  The 
wretched  man  is  dead ;  his  father  is  perishing 
with  grief  for  him^  or  his  mother ;  he  was  cut 
off^  yea^  and  untimely^  and  in  a  strange  land. 
Hearken,  tlien,  to  the  contrary  words.  Tear  thy- 
self away  from  such  utterances.  Against  habit 
?et  the  contrary  habit.     Against  the  words  of 


84 


EPICTETUS. 


HOW  WE  SHOULD  THINK. 


85 


4 


the  Sophists  liave  the  maxims  of  philosophers 
and  the  exercise  and  constant  usage  of  them ; 
against  the  dehisiveness  of  things  liave  clear 
natural  conceptions  ever  burnished  and  ready. 

3.  Whenever  death  may  appear  to  be  an  evil, 
have  ready  the  thought  that  it  is  right  to  avoid 
evils,  and  that  death  is  unavoidable.  For  what 
shall  I  do?  whither  shall  I  flee  from  it?  Let  it 
be  granted  that  I  am  no  Sarpedon,  son  of  Zeus, 
to  speak  in  that  lofty  style:  Igo^  either  to  do 
great  deeds  myself^  or  to  give  another  the  chance 
of  doing  tliem  ;  though  I  myself  fail  I  shall  not 
grudge  it  to  another  to  do  nohly?  Let  it  be 
granted  that  this  is  above  us ;  still  can  we  not  at 
least  rise  to  the  height  of  that  ?  And  whither 
shall  I  flee  from  death?  declare  to  me  tlie 
place ;  declare  to  me  the  men  among  wliom  I 
shall  go,  to  whom  death  comes  never  near ;  de- 
clare to  me  the  charms  against  it.  If  I  liave 
none,  what  would  ye  have  me  do  ?  I  cannot 
escape  death — shall  I  not  then  escape  the  fear  of 
death  ?  shall  I  die  lamenting  and  trembling  ?  Li 
this  is  the  source  of  suffering,  to  w^ish  for  some- 
thing., and  that  it  should  not  come  to  pass ;  and 
thence  it  is  that  when  I  am  able  to  alter  outward 
things  at  my  desire,  I  do  so,  but  when  not,  I  am 
ready  to  tear  out  tlie  eyes  of  him  that  hindereth 
me.  For  man  is  so  made  bv  nature  that  he  will 
not  bear  to  be  deprived  of  the  Good  nor  to  fall 
into  the  Evil.  And  in  the  end,  vvhen  I  am  neither 
able  to  alter  outward  things  nor  to  tear  out  the 
eyes  of  him  tliat  hindereth  me,  I  sit  down  and 
groan  and  rail  on  whomsoever  I  can,  Zeus  and 
the  other  Gods ; — for  if  they  neglect  me,  what 
have  I  to  do  with  them  !  Yea^  hut  thou  wilt  he 
an  impious  man.  And  how  shall  I  be  wofse 
off  than  I  am  now  ?  Here  is  the  whole  matter : 
Remember  that  unless  religion  and  profit  meet 
in  the  same  thing,  religion  cannot  be  saved  in  any 


man.     Do  not  these  things  mightily  convince  of 
their  truth  ? 

4.  Let  the  Pyrrhonist  and  the  Academic  come 
and  make  their  attack— I,  for  my  part,  have  no 
leisure  for  such  discussions,  nor  am  I  able  to 
argue  in  defence  of  general  consent.^    For  if  I 
had  a  suit  about  a  little  piece  of  land,  would  I 
not  call  in  another  to  argue  for  me  ?     WherewitJi 
shall  I  be  satisfied  ?     With  that  which  concerns 
the  matter  in  hand.    How  perception  takes  place, 
whether  by  the  whole  man  or  by  parts,  perhaps 
I  know  not  how  to  declare  :  both  opinions  per- 
plex me.     But  that  thou  and  I  are  not  the  same 
I  know  very  clearly.     Whence  know  you  this  ? 
Never,  when  I  wish  to  eat,  do  I  carry  the  morsel 
to  another  man's  mouth,  but  to  my  own.  Never, 
when  I  wisli  to  take  a  piece  of  bread,  do  I  lay 
hold  of  a  broom,  but  I  always  go  to  the  bread, 
as  to  a  mark.     And  ye  who  deny  the  truth  of 
percept'on,  what  do 'ye  otlier  than  I?    Which 
of  you,  desiring  to  go  to  the  bath,  ever  went 
into  a  mill?      What  then?     Ought  we  not,  ac- 
cording to  our  ahilities,  to  husy  ourselves  loith 
the  upholding  of^  general  consent,  and  raising 
defences  against  all  that  opposeth  the  same?  And 
who  denies  it  ?     But  let  him  do  it  that  can,  that 
hath  leisure ;  but  he  that  trembleth,  and  is  trou- 
bled and  his  heart  is  broken  within  him,  let  him 
spend  his  time  on  something  different. 


CHAPTEE  VIIL 

HOW   WE    SHOULD   THINK   AS   GOD's   OFFSPEING. 

1.  If  those  things  are  true  which  are  said  by 
philosophers  concerning  the  kinship  of  God  and 
men,  what  else  remains  for  men  to  do  than  after 
Socrates'  way,  who  never,  when  men  inquired  of 
him  what  was  his  native  country,  replied  Athens 
or   Corinthj  but  tlie  universe,    For  why  wilt 


86 


EPICTETUS. 


HOW  WE  SHOULD  THINK. 


87 


f 


thou  say  thou  art  an  Athenian,  and  not  rather 
name  thvself  from  that  nook  alone  into  which 
thy  wretched  body  was  cast  at  birth  ?     Is  it  not 
plainly  from  tlie  lordlier  place,  and  that  whicli 
contains  not  only  that  nook  and  all  thy  house- 
hold, but  also  the  whole  land  whence  the  race  of 
thy  ancestors  has  come  down  even  to  thee,  that 
thou  callest  tJiyself  Athenian   or  Corinthian  ? 
Whoso,  therefore,  hath  watched  the  governance 
of  the  universe,  and  hath  learned  that  the  great- 
est and  mightiest  and  amplest  of  all  societies  is 
that  whicli  is  composed  of  mankind  and  of  God  ; 
and  that  from  Him  have  descended  the  seeds 
not  only  to  my  father  alone,  nor  to  my  grand- 
father, but  to  all  creatures  that  are  conceived 
and  born  upon  the  earth  (but  especially  to  rea- 
soning beings,  since  to  these  alone  hath  nature 
given  it  to  have  communion  and  intercourse  with 
God,  being  linked  with  Him  through  Keason),— 
vvlierefore  should  such  a  one  not  name  himself  a 
citizen  of  the  universe;  wherefore  not  a  son  of 
God?  wherefore   shall   he   fear  anytliing    that 
may  come  to  pass  among  men?    And  shall  kin- 
ship with  Caesar,  or  with  some  other  of  those 
that  are  mighty  at  Eome,  be  enough  to  let  us 
live  in  safety  and  undespised  and  fearing  noth- 
ing at  all ;  but  to  have  God  for  our  maker  and 
father  and  guardian,  shall  this  not  avail  to  de- 
liver us  from  griefs  and  fears  ? 

Bid  I  have  no  money ^  saith  one ;  whence  shall 
I  have  hread  to  eat? 

2.  Art  thou  not  ashamed  to  be  more  cowardly 
and  spiritless  than  fugitive  slaves  are  ?  How  do 
they  leave  their  masters  when  they  run  away  ? 
in  wliat  estates  do  they  put  their  trust  ?  in  what 
servants  ?  ^  After  stealing  a  little  to  serve  them 
for  the  first  few  days,  do  they  not  afterwards 
journey  by  land  and  sea,  and  make  their  livino' 
by  one  device  after  another  ?  And  when  did 
ever  any  fugitive  slavQ  die  of  hunger?    But 


thou  tremblest  and  sleepest  not  of  nights,  for 
fear  lest  the  necessaries  of  life  fail  thee.  Wretched 
man !  art  thou  thus  blind  ?  and  seest  not  the  road 
whither  the  want  of  necessaries  leads  a  man? 
And  whither  leads  it?  To  the  same  place  that 
a  fever  doth,  or  a  falling  rock — to  death.  Hast 
thou  not  often  said  this  to  thy  friends?  and 
often  read  aloud  these  things,  and  written  them  ? 
and  how  often  hast  thou  ^'aunted  thyself  that 
thou  wert  at  peace  about  death  ?  Tea^  but  my 
dear  ones  shall  also  suffer  hunger.  What  then  ? 
Doth  their  hunger  lead  to  any  other  place  than 
thine?  Do  they  not  descend  where  thou  de- 
scendest?  Is  there  not  one  underworld  for  them 
and  thee  ?  Wilt  thou  not,  then,  be  bold  in  all 
poverty  and  need,  looking  to  that  place  whither 
the  wealthiest  of  men,  and  the  mightiest  govern- 
ors, yea,  and  even  kings  and  tyrants,  must  go 
down ;  thou  it  may  be,  an-hungered,  and  they 
bursting  with  indigestion  and  drunkenness  ? 

How  seldom  is  it  that  a  be^rfirar  is  seen  that  is 
not  an  old  man,  and  even  of  exceeding  age  ?  but 
freezing  by  night  and  day,  and  lying  on  the 
ground,  and  eating  only  what  is  barely  neces- 
sary, they  come  near  to  being  unable  to  die. 
Canst  thou  not  transcribe  writings  ?  canst  thou 
not  teach  children?  or  be  some  man's  door- 
keeper ? 

But  it  is  shameful  to  come  to  such  a  necessity  ! 

Then  first  of  all  learn  what  things  are  shame- 
ful, and  afterwards  tell  us  thou  art  a  philosopher. 
But  at  present  suffer  not  even  another  man  to 
call  thee  so. 

3.  Is  that  shameful  to  thee  which  is  not  thine 
own  doing,  whereof  thou  art  not  the  cause, 
which  cometh  to  thee  without  thy  will,  like  a 
headache  or  a  fever  ?  If  thy  parents  were  poor, 
or  made  others  their  heirs,  or  are  alive  and  give 
thee  nothing,  are  these  things  shameful  to  thee  ? 
Is  this  what  thou  hast  learned  from  the  philoso- 


\i  ' 


88 


EPICTETUS. 


HOW  WE  SHOULD  THINK. 


89 


1 
1-' 


pliers?     Hast   tlioii   never  lieard   that   what  is 
shameful  is  blamable  ;  and  that  which  is  blaui- 
able  ought  to  be  blamed  ?     But  what  man  wilt 
thou  blame  for  a  woi-k  not  his  own,  one  that  he 
himself  never  did  ?     And  didst  thou  make  thy 
father  such  as  he  is?  or  was  it  in  thy  power 
to  correct   him? — is   it  given  thee  to  do  this? 
What  then  ?     Oughtest  thou  to  desire  what  is 
not  given  to  thee?  or  to  be  ashamed  if  thou  at- 
tain it  not?     Or  hast  thou  been  accustomed,  in 
philosophy,  to  look   to  others,  and  to  hope  for 
nothing  from  thj^self?     Lament,  therefore,  and 
groan,  and  eat  thy  bread  in  fear,  lest  thou  have 
nothing  to  eat  on  the  morrow.     Tremble  for  thy 
slaves,  lest  they  steal,  or  run  away,  or  die.     Do 
thou   live  thus,  now  and   ever,  who   hast   ap- 
proached to  the  name  only  of  philosophy,  and 
hast  brought  the  precepts  of  it  to  shame,  so  far  as 
in  thee  lies,  showing  them  to  be  worthless  and 
useless  to  those  who  adopt  them  ;  thou,  who  hast 
never  striven  to  gain  steadfastness,  cheerfulness, 
tranquillity  ;  that  never  waited  upon  any  man 
for  the  sake  of  these  things,  but  upon  many  for 
the   sake   of  learning    syllogisms;    that   never 
tested  for  thine  own  self  any  one  of  these  ap- 
pearances:— Am  1  able  to  hear  it^  or  am  I  not 
ahh?    What  J  then^  remains  for  Tne  to  do?    But, 
as  though  all  went  fairly  and  safely  with  thee, 
thou  abidest  in  the  final  part  of  philosophy,^  that 
which  confirms  beyond  all  change — and  wherein 
wilt  thou  be  confirmed  ?  in  cowardice,  meanness, 
admiration  of  wealth,  in  vain  pursuit,  and  vain 
efforts  to   avoid?     These   are   the   things  thou 
dost  meditate  how  to  preserve  unliarmed. 

4.  Shouldst  thou  not  first  have  gained  some- 
thing from  Keason,  and  tlien  fortified  this  with 
safety?  Whom  sawest  thou  ever  building  a 
coping  round  about,  and  never  a  wall  on  which 
to  place  it?  And  what  door-keeper  is  set  on 
guard  where  there  is  no  door?    But  thy  study 


is  how  to  prove  propositions — and  what  proposi- 
tion ?  How  the  billows  of  false  reasonings  may 
sweep  thee  not  away — and  away  from  what? 
Show  me  first  what  thing  thou  art  guarding,  cr 
measuring,  or  weighing ;  and  afterwards  the  scales 
or  the  measuring-rod.  Or  how  long  wilt  thou 
still  be  measuring  the  dust?  Are  not  these  the 
tilings  it  behoves  thee  to  prove : — what  it  is  that 
makes  men  happy,  what  inakes  things  proceed 
as  we  would  have  them,  how  one  should  blame 
no  man,  accuse  no  man,  and  fit  oneself  to  the 
ordering  of  the  All?  Yea,  prove  me  these! 
But  I  do  w,  he  saith.  See  !  1  resolve  you  syl- 
loylsms.  Slave!  this  is  the  measuring-rod — it 
is  not  the  thing  measured.  Wherefore  now  you 
pay  the  penalty  for  philosophy  neglected ;  you 
tremble,  you  lie  awake  at  nights,  you  seek  coun- 
sels on  every  hand,  and  if  the  counsels  are  not 
pleasing  to  all  men,  you  think  they  were  ill- 
counselled. 

5.  Then  you  fear  hunger,  as  you  suppose. 
But  it  is  not  hunger  that  you  fear — you  fear  you 
will  have  no  cook,  nor  nobody  else  to  buy  vic- 
tuals for  you,  nor  another  to  take  off  your  boots, 
nor  another  to  put  them  on,  nor  others  to  rub 
you  down,  nor  others  to  follow  you  about,  so 
that  when  you  liave  stripped  yourself  in  the 
bath,  and  stretched  yourself  out  as  if  you  were 
crucified,  you  may  be  rubbed  to  and  fro,  and 
then  the  rubber  standing  by  may  say,  Tupi  him 
rounds  give  me  his  side,  tahe  hold  of  his  head^ 
let  me  have  his  shoulder ;  and  then  when  you 
leave  the  bath  and  go  home  you  may  shout.  Is 
710  one  bringing  anything  to  eatf  and  then, 
Take  away  the  plates^  and  wipe  them.  This  is 
what  you  fear — lest  you  be  not  able  to  live  like 
a  sick  man.  But  learn  how  those  live  that  are 
in  health— slaves  and  laborers,  and  true  philoso- 
phers ;  how  Socrates  lived,  who  moreover  had  a 
wife  and   children;  how  Diogenes  lived;  how 


90 


EPICTETUS. 


THE  OPEN  DOOR. 


91 


^ 


k 


Clean thes,  that  studied  in  tlie  schools  and  drew 
his  own  water.2  If  you  would  have  tliese  things, 
they  are  everywhere  to  be  had,  and  you  will 
live  boldly.  Boldly  in  what?  In  that  wherein 
alone  it  is  possible  to  be  bold — in  that  which  is 
faithful,  which  cannot  be  hindered,  which  can- 
not be  taken  away.  But  why  hast  thou  made 
thyself  so  worthless  and  useless  that  no  one  is 
willing  to  receive  thee  into  his  house  or  take 
care  of  thee?  But  if  any  utensil  were  thrown 
away,  and  it  was  sound  and  serviceable,  every- 
one that  found  it  would  pick  it  up  and  think  it 
a  gain ;  but  thee  no  man  would  pick  up,  nor 
count  anything  but  damage.  So  thou  canst  not 
so  much  as  serve  the  purpose  of  a  watch-dog,  or 
a  cock?  Why,  then,  wilt  thou  still  live,  being 
such  a  man  as  thou  art  ? 

6.  Doth  any  good  man  fear  lest  the  means  of 
gaining  food  fail  him.  They  fail  not  the  blind,  nor 
the  lame ;  shall  they  fail  a  good  man  ?  To  the 
good  soldier  there  fails  not  one  who  gives  him 
pay,  nor  to  the  la))orer,  nor  to  the  shoemaker ; 
and  shall  such  a  one  fail  to  tlie  good  man  ?  Is 
God,  then,  careless  of  His  instruments.  His  ser- 
vants, His  witnesses,  whom  alone  He  useth  to  show 
forth  to  the  untaught  what  He  is,  and  that  He 
governs  all  things  well,  and  is  not  careless  of 
human  things  ?  and  that  to  a  good  man  there  is 
no  evil,  neither  in  life  nor  in  death?  II&ic^ 
then^  when  he  leaves  them  vnthout  food  ?  How 
else  is  this  than  as  when  a  good  general  gives 
me  the  signal  for  retreat?     I  obey,  I  follow, 

S raising  my  leader  and  hymning  his  works, 
'or  I  came  when  it  pleased  him,  and  when  it 
pleases  him  I  will  go.  In  my  life-time  also  my 
work  was  to  sing  the  praise  of  God,  both  alone 
to  myself,  and  to  single  persons,  and  in  presence 
of  many.  He  doth  not  provide  me  with  many 
things,  nor  with  great  abundance  of  goods;  He 
will  not  have  me  live  delicatelv.     For  neither 


did  He  provide  so  for  Hercules,  His  own  son, 
but  another  man  reigned  over  Argos  and  My- 
cenae, while  he  obeyed  and  labored  and  was  dis- 
ciplined. And  Eurystheus  was  what  he  was — 
no  king  of  Argos  and  Mycenae,  who  was  not 
king  even  of  himself;  and  Hercules  was  lord 
and  leader  of  all  the  earth  and  sea,  for  he  purged 
them  of  lawlessness  and  wrong,  and  brought  in 
righteousness  and  holiness ;  naked  and  alone  did 
he  this.  And  when  Odysseus  was  shipwrecked 
and  cast  away,  did  his  need  humble  him  one 
whit  or  break  his  spirit?  But  how  did  he  go 
out  to  the  maidens,  to  beg  for  the  necessaries  of 
life,  which  it  is  lield  most  shameful  to  seek  from 
another  ? 

**  Even  as  a  lion  from  his  mountain  home, 
So  went  Odysseus  trusting  in  his  valor.'* 

— Odyssey,  vi.  130. 

Trusting  in  what?  Not  in  fame,  nor  wealth, 
but  in  his  own  valor — that  is,  his  opinions  of  the 
things  that  are  and  are  not  in  our  power.^  For 
these  alone  it  is  that  make  men  free  and  unhin- 
dered ;  that  lift  up  the  heads  of  the  abject,  and 
bid  them  look  rich  men  and  tyrants  steadily  in 
the  face.  And  this  was  the  gift  of  the  philoso- 
pher; but  thou  wilt  never  go  forth  boldly,  but 
trembling  for  thy  tine  raiment  and  silver  dishes. 
Miserable  man !  hast  thou  indeed  thus  wasted 
all  thy  time  till  now  ? 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   OPEN   DOOR. 

1.  For  my  part  I  think  the  old  man  should 
be  sitting  here,  not  to  devise  how  ye  may  have 
no  mean  thoughts,  nor  to  speak  no  mean  nor 
ignoble  things  about  yourselves,  but  to  watch 
that  there  arise  not  among  us  youths  of  such  a 
n.ind,  that  when  they  have  perceived  their  kin- 


1 


d2 


EPICTETUS. 


KNOW  THYSELF. 


93 


ship  with  the  Gods  and  how  the  flesh  and  its 
possessions  are  laid  upon  ns  like  bonds,  and  how 
many  necessities  for  the  management  of  life  are 
by  them  brought  upon  us,  they  may  desire  to  fling 
these  things  away  for  abhorred  and  intolerable 
burthens,  and  depart  unto  their  kin.     And  this  is 
what  your  master  and  teacher — if,  in  sooth,  ye  had 
any  such — should  liave  to  contend  with  in  you, — 
that  you  should  come  to  liim  and  say,  Epictetus, 
we  can  endure  no  longer  heing  hound  to  this 
lody^  giving  it  food  and  drink^  and  resting  it 
and  cleansing  it^  and  going  about  to  court  one 
man  after  another  for  its  sake.     Ai^e  not  such 
things  indifferent  and  nothing  to  us  ?     And  is 
It ot  Death  no  evil?    Are  we  not  i7i  some  loay 
kinsmen   of  God^  and  did  we  not  come  from 
Ilim  f     Let  tis  depart  to  whence  we  came  ;  let  iis 
he  delivered  at  last  from  these  bonds  loherewith 
we  are  bound  and  burthened  !    Here  are  I'obbers^ 
and  thieves^  and  law  courts^  and  those  that  are 
called  tyrants^  which  through  the  body  and  its 
possessimis  seem  as  if  they  had  some  power  over 
us.     Let  us  show  them  that  they  have  no  power 
over  any  man!     And  to  this  it  should  be  my 
part  to  say,  "  My  friends,  wait  upon  God.   When 
He  himself  shall  give  the  signal  and  release  you 
from  this  service,  then  are  ye  released  unto  Him. 
But  for  the  present,  bear  to  dwell  in  this  place, 
Avherein  He  has  set  you.     Short,  indeed,  is  this 
time  of  your  sojourn,  and  easy  to  bear  for  those 
that  are  so  minded.     For  what  tyrant  or  what 
thief  is  there  any  longer,  or  what  court  of  law  is 
terrible  to  one  who  thus  makes  nothing  of  the 
body  and  the  possessions  of  it  ?     Remain,  then, 
and  depart  not  without  a  reason."     Some  such 
part  as  this  should  the  teacher  have  to  play  to- 
wards the  well-natured  among  his  disciples. 

2.  How  long,  then,  are  such  injunctions  to  be 
obeyed  ?  So  long  as  it  is  profitable — that  is  to 
say,  so  long  as  1  can  do  what  becomes  and  befits 


me.  Then  some  men  are  choleric  and  fastid- 
ious, and  say,  "  I  cannot  sup  with  this  man,  to 
have  to  hear  him  every  day  telling  how  he 
fought  in  Mysia."  /  told  you,  brother,  how  / 
went  up  the  hill — then  again  L  began  to  be  be- 
sieged. .  .  .  But  another  saith,  "  I  prefer  to 
have  my  supper,  and  listen  to  him  prating  as 
long  as  he  likes."  And  do  thou  compare  the 
gain  on  both  sides— only  do  naught  in  heaviness 
or  affliction  or  as  supposing  that  thou  art  in  evil 
case.  For  to  this  no  man  can  compel  thee. 
Dotli  it  smoke  in  the  chamber  ?  if  it  is  not  very 
much  I  will  stay,  if  too  much,  I  will  go  out ;  for 
remember  this  always,  and  hold  fast  to  it,  that 
the  door  is  open.  Thou  shall  not  live  in  Ni- 
copolis.  I  will  not.  JSfor  in  Athens.  I  will 
not  live  in  Athens.  Wor  in  Borne.  Neither  in 
Eome.  Live  in  Gyara}  I  will  live  in  Gyara. 
Jiut  living  in  Gyara  seemeth  to  me  like  a  great 
smoke.  I  will  depart,  whither  no  man  shall 
hinder  me  to  dwell — for  that  dwelling  stands 
ever  open  to  all. 

3.  Only  do  it  not  unreasonably,  not  cowardly, 
nor  make  every  common  chance  an  excuse.  For 
again,  it  is  not  God's  will,  for  He  hath  need  of 
such  an  order  of  things,  and  of  such  a  race  upon 
the  earth.  But  if  he  give  the  signal  for  retreat, 
as  lie  did  to  Socrates,  we  must  obey  Him  as  our 
commander. 


CHAPTEE  X. 


KNOW    THYSELF. 


1.  If  a  man  have  any  advantage  over  others, 
or  think  himself  to  have  it  when  he  hath  it 
not,  it  cannot  but  be  that  if  he  is  an  untaught 
man  he  shall  be  puffed  up  by  it.  Thus  the 
tyrant  says,  /  am  he  that  is  master  of  all.  And 
what  can  you  give  me  ?    Can  you  set  my  pur- 


94 


EPICTETUS. 


m 


► 


f« ' 


^ 


8iiit  free  of  all  hindrance?  How  is  it  in  you  to 
do  that?  For  have  you  the  gift  of  never  falling 
into  what  you  shun  ?  or  never  missing  the  mark 
of  your  desire?  And  whence  have  you  it? 
Come,  now,  in  a  ship  do  you  trust  to  yourself  or 
to  tlie  captain  ?  or  in  a  chariot,  to  anyone  else 
than  the  driver  ?  ^  And  how  will  you  do  with 
regard  to  other  acts?  Even  thus.  Where,  then, 
is  your  power  ?  All  men  minister  to  me.  And 
do  1  not  minister  to  my  plate,  and  I  wash  it  and 
wipe  it,  and  drive  in  a  peg  for  my  oil-flask? 
What  then,  are  these  things  greater  tlian  I? 
Nay,  but  they  supply  certain  of  my  needs,  and 
for  this  reason  I  take  care  of  them.  Yea,  and 
do  1  not  minister  to  my  ass  ?  Do  I  not  wash  his 
feet  and  groom  liim  ?  Know  you  not  that  every 
man  ministers  to  liimself  ?  And  he  ministers  to 
you  also,  even  as  he  dotli  to  the  ass.  For  who 
treats  you  as  a  man  ?  Show  me  one  that  doth. 
Who  wisheth  to  be  like  unto  you  ?  who  becomes 
your  imitator,  as  men  did  of  Socrates  ?  But  1 
"can  cut  off  their  head.  You  say  well.  I  had 
forgotten  that  I  nmst  pay  regard  to  you  as  to  a 
fever  or  the  cholera ;  and  set  up  an  altar  to  you, 
as  tliere  is  in  Rome  an  altar  to  Fever. 

2.  What  is  it,  then,  whereby  the  multitude  is 
troubled  and  terrified?  The  tyrant  and  his 
guards?  Never — God  forbid  it !  It  is  not  pos- 
sible that  that  which  is  by  nature  free  should  be 
troubled  by  any  other  thing,  or  hindered  save  by 
itself.  But  it  is  troubled  by  opinions  of  things. 
For  when  the  tyrant  saith  to  any  one,  I  will 
hind  thy  leg^  then  he  who  setteth  store  by  his 
leg  saith,  Nay^  have  pity  !  but  he  that  setteth 
store  by  his  own  Will,  If  it  seem  more  profitable 
to  you^  then  hind  it. 

"  Dost  thou  not  regard  me  ?  " 

I  do  not  regard  you.  I  will  show  you  that  I 
am  master.  How  can  you  be  that?  Me  hath 
God  set  free ;  or  think  you  that  he  would  let  his 


KmW  THYSELF. 


m 


own  son  be  enslaved  ?     You  are  lord  of  my  dead 
body — take  that. 

"  So  when  thou  comest  near  to  me,  thou 

wilt  not  do  me  service  ?  " 

Nay,  but  I  will  do  it  to  myself ;  and  if  you 
will  liave  me  say  that  I  do  it  to  you  also,  I 'tell 
3^ou  that  I  do  it  as  to  my  kitchen  pot. 

3.  This  is  no  selfishness;  for  every  living 
creature  is  so  made  that  it  doth  all  things  for  its 
own  sake.  For  the  sun  doth  all  things  for  his 
own  sake,  and  so,  moreover,  even  Zeus  himself. 
But  when  He  will  be  Raingiver  and  Fruitgiver 
and  Father  of  Gods  and  men,  thou  seest  that  He 
may  not  do  these  works  and  have  these  titles, 
but  He  be  serviceable  to  the  common  good. 
And,  on  the  whole,  He  hath  so  formed  the 
nature  of  the  reasoning  creature  that  he  may 
never  win  aught  of  his  own  good  without  he 
furnish  something  of  service  to  the  common 
good.  Thus  it  is  not  to  the  excluding  of  the 
common  good  that  a  man  do  all  things  for  him- 
self. ^  For  is  it  to  be  expected  that  a  man  shall 
stand  aloof  from  himself  and  his  own  interest  ? 
And  where  then  would  be  that  same  and  single 
principle  which  we  observe  in  all  things,  their 
affection  to  tliemselves. 

4.  So,  then,  when  we  act  on  strange  and  fool- 
ish opinions  of  things  beyond  the  Will,  as  though 
they  were  good  or  evil,  it  is  altogether  impossi- 
ble but  we  shall  do  service  to  tyrants.  And 
would  it  were  to  the  tyrants  alone,  and  not  to 
their  lackej'^s  also ! 

^  5.  But  what  hinders  the  man  that  hath  dis- 
tinguished these  things  to  live  easily  and  docile, 
looking  clamly  on  all  that  is  to  be,  and  bearing 
calmly  all  that  is  past  ?  Will  you  have  me  bear 
poverty  ?  Come,  and  see  what  poverty  is  when 
it  strikes  one  that  knoweth  how  to  play  the 
part  well.  Will  you  have  me  rule  ?  Give  me 
power^  then,  and  the  pains  of  it.    Banishment  ? 


|i 


96 


EPICTETUS. 


KNOW  THYSELF. 


97 


'/ 


Whithersoever  I  go,  it  sliall  be  well  with  me ;  for 
in  this  place  it  was  well  with  me,  not  because  of 
the  place,  but  because  of  the  opinions  which  I 
shall  carry  away  with  me.  For  these  no  man 
can  deprive  me  of.  Yea,  these  only  are  mine 
own,  whereof  I  cannot  be  deprived,  and  they  suf- 
fice for  me  as  long  as  I  have  them,  wherever  I 
be,  or  whatever  I  do. 

6.  "  But  now  is  the  time  come  to  die." 

What  say  you  ?  to  die  ?  Nay,  make  no  tragedy 
of  the  business,  but  tell  it  as  it  is.  Now  is  it 
time  for  my  substance  to  be  resolved  again  into 
the  things  wlierefrom  it  came  together.  And 
what  is  dreadful  in  this  ?  What  of  the  things  in 
tlie  universe  is  about  to  perisli  ?  What  new,  or 
wliat  unaccountable  tiling  is  about  to  come  to 
pass?  Is.it  for  these  things  that  a  tyrant  is 
feared  ?  through  these  tliat  the  guards  seem  to 
bear  swords  so  large  and  sharp  ?  Tell  that  to 
others;  but  by  me  all  these  things  have  been 
examined  ;  no  man  hath  power  on  me.  I  have 
been  set  free  by  God,  1  know  His  command- 
ments, lienceforth  no  man  can  lead  me  captive. 
I  have  a  liberator  ^  such  as  I  need,  and  judges 
such  as  I  need.  Are  you  uot  the  master  of  my 
body  ?  What  is  tliat  to  me  ?  Of  my  property  ? 
What  is  that  to  me?  Of  exile  or  captivity? 
Again,  I  say,  from  all  these  things,  and  the  poor 
body  itself,  I  will  depart  when  you  will.  Try 
your  power,  and  you  shall  know  how  far  it 
reaches. 

7.  But  the  tyrant  will  bind — what  ?  The  leg. 
He  will  take  away— what  ?  The  head.  What, 
then,  can  he  not  bind  and  not  take  away  ?  The 
Will.  And  hence  that  precept  of  the  ancients — 
Know  Thyself. 

8.  Whom,  then,  can  I  still  fear  ?  The  lackeys 
of  the  bed-chamber?  For  what  that  they  can 
do?  Shut  me  out?  Let  them  shut  me  out,  if 
they  find  me  wishing:  to  go  in. 


•- —  "  Wliy,  then,  didst  thou  go  to  the  doors  ? " 
Because  I  hold  it  proper  to  join  the  play  while 
the  play  lasts. 

"  How,  then,  shalt  thou  not  be  shut  out  ? " 

Because  if  I  am  not  received,  I  do  not  wish  to 
enter;  but  always  that  which  happens  is  what  I 
wish.     For  I  hold  what  God  wills  above  what  I 
will.     I  cleave  to  Him  as  His  servant  and  fol- 
lower ;  my  impulses  are  one  with  His,  my  pur- 
suit is  one  with  His;  in  a  word,  my  will  is  one 
with  His.     There  is  no  shutting  out  for  me — 
nay,  but  for  those  who  would  force  their  way  in. 
And  wherefore  do  I  not  force  my  way  ?    Because 
I  know  that  no  good  thing  is  dealt  out  within  to 
those  that  enter.     But  when  I  hear  some  one 
congratulated  on  being  honoi'ed  by  Caesar,  I  say, 
What  hath  fortune  brought  him?     A  govern- 
ment?    Has  it  also,  then,  brought  him  such  an 
opinion  as  he  ought  to  have  ?     A  magistracy  ? 
Hath  he  also  gained  the  power  to  be  a  good  mag- 
istrate ?    AVhy  will  I  still  push  myself  forward  ? 
A  man  scatters  figs  and  almonds  abroad ;  chil- 
dren seize  them,  and  fight  among  themselves ; 
but  not   so  men,  for  they  hold  it  too  trifling  a 
matter.     And  if  a  man  should  scatter  about  oys- 
ter-shells,   not  even    the  children   Avould  seize 
them.     Offices  of  government  are  dealt  out — 
children  will  look  for  them ;  money  is  given — 
children  will  look  for  it;  military  commands, 
consulships  —let  children  scramble  for  them.  Let 
them  be  shut  out  and  smitten,  let  them  kiss  the 
hands  of  the  giver,  of  his  slaves— it  is  figs  and 
almonds   to   me.     Wha*t  then?     If  thou   miss 
tliem  when  he  is  flinging  them  about,  let  it  not 
vex  thee.     If  a  fig  fall  into  thy  bosom,  take  and 
eat  it,  for  so  far  even  a  fig  is  to  be  valued.     But 
if  I  must  stoop  down  for  it,  and  throw  down 
another  man,  or  another  throw  me  down,  and  I 
flatter  those  who  enter  in,  then  neither  is  a  fig 
worth  so  much,  nor  is  any  other  of  the  things 


ii 


96 


EPICTETUS. 


that  are  not  good,  even  those  which  the  philoso- 
phers have  persuaded  me  not  to  think  good. 


CHAPTER  XI.^ 

HOW   WE   SHOULD   BEAR  OURSELVES  TOWARDS  EVIL 

MEN. 

1.  If  that  which  tlie  philosophers  sa.y  is  true 
—that  there  is  one  principle  in  all  men,  as  when 
I  assent  to  something,  the  feeling  that  it  is  so  ; 
and  when  I  dissent,  the  feeling  that  it  is  not  so ; 
yea,  and  when  I  withhold  my  judgment,  the 
feeling  that  it  is  uncertain ;  and  likewise  when  I 
am  moved  towards  anything,  the  feeling  that 
it  is  for  my  profit,  but  it  is  impossible  to  judge 
one  thing  to  be  profitable,  and  to  pursue  an- 
other, to^  judge  one  thing  right  and  be  moved 
towards  another— why  have  we  indignation 
with  the  multitude  ? "  They  are  rollers,  one 
saith,  and  thieves.  And  what  is  it  to  be  robbers 
and  tliieves  %  It  is  to  err  concerning  things  good 
and  evil.  Shall  we,  then,  have  indignation  with 
them,  or  shall  we  pity  them  ?  Nay,  but  show 
them  the  error,  and  you  shall  see  how  they  will 
cease  from  their  sins.  But  if  they  see  it  not, 
they  have  naught  better  than  the  appearance  of 
the"  thin  or  to  them. 

2.  Should  not,  then,  this  roller,  or  this  adul- 
terer, le  destroyed?  By  no  means,  but  take  it 
rather  this  way :  This  man  who  errs  and  is 
deceived  concerning  things  of  greatest  moment, 
who  is  llinded,  not  in  the  visio7i  which  distin- 
guisheth  Hack  and  white,  lut  in  the  judgment 
which  distinguisheth  Good  and  Evil — shoxdd 
we  not  destrcyy  him?  And  thus  speaking,  you 
shall  know  how  inhuman  is  that  which  you  say, 
and  how  like  as  if  you  said,  Shall  we  not  destroy 
this  Hind  mafi,  this  deaf  man  ?  For  if  it  is  the 
greatest  injury  to  be  deprived  of  the  greatest 


HOW  WE  SHOULD  BEAR  OURSELVES.        99 

fcWngs,  and  the  greatest  tiling  in  every  man  is  a 
Will  such  as  he  ought  to  have,  and  one  be  de- 
prived of  this,  why  are  you  still  indignant  with 
hini  ?  Man,  you  should  not  be  moved  contrary 
to  Nature  by  the  evil  deeds  of  other  men  Pitv 
Jmn  rather,  be  not  inclined  to  offence  and  hatred 
abandon  the  phrases  of  the  multitude,  like  "  these 
cursed  wretches."  How  have  you  suddenly  be- 
come so  wise  and  hard  to  please  ? 

3.  Wherefore,  then,  have  we  indignation?  Be- 
cause we  worship  the  things  whicirthey  deprive 
us  of.  Do  not  worship  line  raiment,  and  you 
shall  not  be  wroth  with  the  thief.  Do  not  wor- 
siup  the  beauty  of  a  woman,  and  you  shall  not 
be  wroth  with  the  adulterer.  Know  that  the 
tliiet  and  the  adulterer  have  no  part  in  tliat 
which  IS  thine  own,  but  in  that  which  is  foreiVn 
to  tliee,  m  that  which  is  not  in  thy  power.  These 
tilings  it  thou  dismiss,  and  count  them  for  naught, 
with  whom  Shalt  thou  still  be  wroth  ?  But  so 
long  as  thou  dost  value  these  things,  be  wroth 
with  thyself  rather  than  with  others. 

4.  Look  now  how  it  stands :     You  have  fine 
raiment,  your   neighbor  has  not;   you  have  a 
window,  and  wish  to  air  your  clothes  at  it.     The 
neighbor  knoweth  not  what  is  the  true  good  of 
man,  but  think  it  is  to  have  fine  raiment,  the 
same  thing  that  you  also  think.     Then  shall  he 
not  come  and  take  them  away  ?     Show  a  cake  to 
greedy  persons,  and  eat  it  up  yourself  alone,  and 
will  you  have  them  not  snatch  at  it  ?     Nay,  but 
provoke  them  not.     Have  no  window,  and  do 
not  air  your  clothes.     I  also  liad  lately  an  iron 
lamp  set  beside  the  images  of  tiie  Gods";  hearing 
a  noise  at  tlie  door,  I  ran  down,  and  found  the 
lamp  carried  off.     I  reflected  that  the  thief's  im- 
pulse   was  not  unnatural.     What  then  «     To- 
morrow,  I  said,   thou    wilt    -find   an    earthen 
tam.p.^     For  a  man  loses  only  what  he  has.     / 
have  lost  a  garment.     For  you  had  a  garment. 


100 


EPICTETUS. 


-.i 


\i 


I  have  a  pain  in  my  head.  Have  you  any  pain 
in  your  horns  ?  Why,  then,  have  you  indigna- 
tion ?  For  there  is  no  loss  and  no  suffering  save 
only  in  those  things  which  we  possess. 


CHAPTER  XIL 


THE   VOYAGE   OF    LIFE. 


Even  as  in  a  sea  voyage,  when  the  ship  is 
brought  to  anchor,  and  you  go  out  to  fetch  in 
water,  you  make  a  by-work  of  gathering  a  few 
roots  and  shells  by  the  way,  but  have  need  ever 
to  keep  your  inind  fixed  on  the  ship,  and  con- 
stantly to  look  round,  lest  at  any  time  the  mas- 
ter of  the  ship  call,  and  you  must,  if  lie  call,  cast 
away  all  those  things,  lest  you  be  treated  like 
the  sheep  that  are  bound  and  thrown  into  the 
hold :  So  it  is  with  human  life  also.  And  if 
there  be  given  wife  and  children  instead  of  shells 
and  roots,  nothing  shall  hinder  us  to  take  them. 
But  if  the  master  call,  run  to  the  ship,  forsaking 
all  those  things,  and  looking  not  behind.  And 
if  thou  be  in  old  age,  go  not  far  from  the  ship 
at  any  time,  lest  the  master  should  call,  and  thou 
be  not  ready. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


the  mark  of  effort. 


1.  Seek  not  to  have  things  happen  as  you 
choose  them,  but  rather  choose  them  to  happen 
as  they  do,  and  so  shall  you  live  prosperously. 

2.  Disease  is  a  hindrance  of  the  body,  not  of 
the  Will,  unless  the  Will  itself  consent.  Lame- 
ness is  a  hindrance  of  the  leg,  not  of  the  Will. 
And  this  you  may  say  on  every  occasion,  for 
nothing  can  happen  to  you  but  you  will  find  it 


i 


THE  MARK  OF  EFFORT. 


101 


a  hindrance  not  of  yourself  but  of  some  other 
thing. 

3.  What,  then,  are  the  things  that  oppress  us 
and  perturb  us  ?  What  else  than  opinions  ?  He 
that  goeth  away  and  leaveth  his  familiars  and 
companions  and  wonted  places  and  habits— with 
what  else  is  he  oppressed  than  his  opinions? 
Now,  little  children,  if  they  cry  because  their 
nurse  has  left  them  for  a  while,  straightway  for- 
get their  sorrow  when  they  are  given  a  small 
cake.     Wilt  thou  be  likened  unto  a  little  child  ? 

"  Nay,  by  Zeus !  for  I  would  not  be  thus 

aifected  by  a  little  cake,  but  by  right  opinions." 

And  what  are  these  ? 

Tiiey  are  such  as  a  man  should  study  all  day 
long  to  observe— that  he  be  not  subject  to  the 
effects  of  any  thing  that  is  alien  to  him,  neither 
of  friend,  or  place,  nor  exercises ;  yea  not  even 
of  his  own  body,  but  to  remember  the  Law,  and 
have  it  ever  before  his  eyes.  And  what  is  the 
divine  Law  ?  To  hold  fast  that  which  is  his  own, 
and  to  claim  nothing  that  is  another's;  to  use 
what  is  given  him,  and  not  to  covet  what  is  not 
given  ;  to  yield  up  easily  and  willingly  what  is 
taken  away,  giving  thanks  for  the  tiine  that  he 
has  had  it  at  his  service.  This  do— or  cry  for 
the  nurse  and  mamma ;  for  what  doth  it  matter  to 
what  or  whom  thou  art  subject,  from  what  thy 
welfare  hangs  2  Wherein  art  thou  better  than 
one  who  bewails  himself  for  his  mistress,  if  thou 
lament  thy  exercises  and  porticoes  and  comrades, 
and  all  such  pastime  ?  Another  cometh,  griev- 
ing because  he  shall  no  more  drink  of  the  water 
of  Dirce.  And  is  the  Marcian  water  worse  than 
that  of  Dirce  ? 

"  But  I  was  used  to  the  other." 

And  to  this  also  thou  shalt  be  used  ;  and  when 
thou  art  so  affected  towards  it,  lament  for  it  too, 
and  try  to  make  a  verse  like  that  of  Euripides— 
«*  The  balhs  of  Nero  and  the  Marciau  stream,"  ^ 


I 


102 


EPICTETUS. 


Behold  how  tragedies  are  made,  when  common 
chances  happen  to  foolish  men  ! 

4.  ''  But  when  shall  I  see  Athens  and  the 

Acropolis  again  ? " 

Wretched  man !  dotli  not  that  satisfy  thee  which 
thou  seest  every  day  ?  Hast  thou  aught  better 
or  greater  to  see  than  the  sun,  tlie  moon,  the 
stars,  the  common  earth,  the  sea  ?  But  if  withal 
thou  mark  the  way  of  Him  that  governeth  the 
whole,  and  bear  Him  about  within  thee,  wilt  thou 
still  long  for  cut  stones  and  a  tine  rock?  And 
when  thou  shalt  come  to  leave  the  sun  itself  and 
the  moon,  what  wilt  thou  do  ?  Sit  down  and  cry, 
like  the  children  ?  What,  then,  wert  thou  doing 
in  the  school  ?  What  didst  thou  hear,  what  didst 
thou  learn  ?  Why  didst  thou  write  thyself 
down  a  philosopher,  when  thou  mightest  have 
written  the  truth  as  thus: — I  made  certain  he- 
ginnings  and  read  Chrysij>pu8^  hut  did  not  so 
^miich  as  enter  the  door  of  a  jyJiilosopher  f  For 
how  shouldst  thou  have  aught  in  common  with 
Socrates,  who  died  as  he  died,  who  lived  as  he 
lived — or  with  Diogenes  ?  Dost  thou  think  that 
any  of  these  men  lamented  or  was  indignant  be- 
cause he  should  see  such  a  man  or  such  a  woman 
no  more?  or  because  he  should  not  dwell  in 
Athens  or  in  Corinth,  but,  as  it  might  chance,  in 
Susa  or  Ecbatana  ?  When  a  man  can  leave  the 
banquet  or  the  game  when  he  pleases,  shall  such 
a  one  grieve  if  he  remains  ?  Shall  he  not,  as  in 
a  game,  stay  only  so  long  as  he  is  entertained  ? 
A  man  of  this  stamp  would  endure  such  a  thing 
as  perpetual  exile  or  sentence  of  death. 

Wilt  thou  not  now  be  weaned  as  children  are, 
and  take  more  solid  food,  nor  cry  any  more  after 
thy  mother  and  nurse,  wailing  like  an  old  woman  ? 

" "  But  if  I  quit  them  I  shall  grieve  them." 

Thou  grieve  them?  Never;  but  that  shall 
grieve  them  which  grieveth  thee — Opinion. 
"What  hast  thou,  then,  to  do?    Cast  away  thy 


"ki 


THE  MARK  OF  EFFORT,  m 

own  bad  opinion  ;  and  they,  if  they  do  well  will 
ctast  away  theirs ;  if  not,  they  are  the  causes  of 
their  own  lamenting. 

5.  Man,  be  mad  at  last,  as  the  saying  is  for 
peace,  for  freedom,  for  magnanimity.     Lift  up 
thy  head,  as  one  delivered  from  slavery.     Dare 
to   look   up   to   God   and  say:    Deal' with  7ne 
hencef<jrth  as  thou   wilt;  I  am  of  one    mind 
With  thee;  I  am  thine.     I  reject  nothing  that 
seems  good  to  thee;  had  me  whithersoever  thou 
icilt,  clothe  7ne  in  what  dress  thou  wilt      Wilt 
thou  have  me  govern  or  live  privately,  or  stay 
at  horne.or  go  into  exile,  or  he  a  poor  man.  or  a 
rich  ?    For  all  these  conditions  I  will  he  thy 
admcate  with  men— I  show  the  nature  of  each 
of  them,  what  it  is. 

Nay,  but  sit  in  a  corner  and  wait  for  thy 
mother  to  feed  thee.^ 

6.  Wlio  would  Hercules  have  been  if  he  had 
sat  at  home  ?     He  would  have  been  Eurystheus, 
and  not  Hercules.     And  how  many  companions 
and  friends  had  he  in  his  journeying  about  the 
world?     But   nothing  was' dearer  to  him  than 
God  j  and  for  this  he  was  believed  to  be  the  son 
of   God   and  trusting  in  God,   he  went   about* 
purging  away  lawlessness  and  wrong.     But  thou 
art  no  Hercules,  and  canst  not  purge  away  evils 
not  thine  own?  nor  yet  Theseus,  who  cleared 
Attica  of  evil  things  ?     Then   clear  away  tliine 
own.     From  thy  breast,  from  thy  mind  cast  out, 
instead   of   Procrustes   and  Sciron,  grief,  fear, 
covetousness,  envy,  malice,  avarice,  effeminacv,' 
profligacy.     And  these  things  cannot  otherwise 
be  cast  out  than  by  looking  to  God  only,  being 
affected   only  by  him,  and   consecrated   to   hi^ 
commands.  ^  But   choosing  anything   else   than 
this,  thou  wilt  follow  with  groaning  and  lamen- 
tation whatever  is  stronger  than  thou,  ever  seek- 
ing prosperity  in   t]un2:s   outside   thvself,   and 
never  able   to  attain   it.     For  thou  'seekest  it 


104 


EPICTETUS. 


wliere  it  is  not,  and  neglectest  to  seek  it  where 
it  is. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

FACULTIES. 

Remember  at  any  thing  that  shall  befall  thee 
to  turn  to  thvself  and  seek  what  faculty  thou  hast 
for  making"  use  of  it.  If  thou  see  a  beautiful 
person,  thou  wilt  find  a  faculty  for  that— name- 
ly, Self-mastery.  If  toil  is  laid  upon  thee,  thou 
wilt  find  the  faculty  of  Perseverance.  If  thou 
art  reviled,  thou  wilt  find  Patience.  And  mak- 
ing this  thy  wont,  thou  shalt  not  be  carried  away 
by  the  appearances. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

RETURNS. 

Never  in  any  case  say,  I  have  lost  such  a 
thing,  but  /  have  returned  it.  Is  thy  child 
dead  ?  it  is  a  return.  Is  thy  wife  dead  ?  it  is  a 
return.     Art  thou  deprived  of  thy  estate  ?  is  not 

this  also  a  return  ?  ^ 

"  But  he  is  wicked  who  depnves  me  of 

it ! " 

But  what  is  that  to  thee,  through  whom  the 
Giver  demands  his  own  ?  As  long,  therefore,  as 
he  grants  it  to  thee,  steward  it  like  another's 
property,  as  travellers  use  an  inn. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
the  price  of  tranquillity. 
1  If  you  would  advance  in  philosophy  you 
must  abandon  such  thoughts  as.  If  I  neglect  my 
affairs  I  shall  not  have  the  means  of  living .  Jf 
I  do  not  correct  my  serva/nt  he  will  he  good  for 
nothing.    For  it  is  better  to  die  of  hunger,  hav- 


WHERE  THE  HEART  IS  THE  BOND  IS.    105 

ing  lived  without  grief  and  fear,  than  to  live 
witli  a  tmubled  spirit  amid  abundance.  And  it 
IS  better  to  have  a  bad  servant  than  an  afflicted 
miud. 

2.  Make  a  beginning,  then,  in  small  matters. 
Is  a  little  of  your  oil  spilt,  or  a  little  wine  stolen  ? 
Ihen  say  to  yourself,  i^^r  so  much  peace  is 
bought,  this  u  the  price  of  tranquillity.  For 
notlnng  can  be  gained  without  paving  for  it. 
And  when  you  call  your  servant,  bethink  you 
tl^iat  he  may  not  liear,  or,  hearing,  may  not  obey. 
J  or  him,  indeed,  that  is  not  well,  but  for  you  it 
IS  altogether  well  that  he  have  not  the  power  to 
trouble  your  mind. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A   CHOICE. 

If  thou  wduldst  advance,  be  content  to  let 
people  think  thee  senseless  and  foolish  as  regards 
external  things.  Wish  not  ever  to  seem  wise, 
and  if  ever  thou  shalt  find  thyself  accounted  to 
be  somebody,  then  mistrust  thyself.  For  know 
that  it  is  not  easy  to  make  a  choice  that  shall 
agree  both  with  outward  things  and  with  Nature, 
but  it  must  needs  be  that  he  who  is  careful  of 
the  on^  shall  neglect  the  other. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THAT  where  the  HEART  IS  THE  BOND  IS. 

1.  Thou  art  a  fool  if  thou  desire  wife  and 
children  and  friends  to  live  forever,  for  that  is 
desiring  things  to  be  in  thy  powder  w^hich  are  not 
in  thy  power,  and  things  pertaining  to  others  to 
be  thine  own.  So  also  thou  art  a  fool  to  desire 
that  thy  servant  should  never  do  anything  amiss, 
for  that  is  desiring  evil  not  to  be  evil,  but  some- 
thing else.     But  'if  thou  desire  never  to  fail  in 


106 


EPICTETUS. 


THAT  A  MAN  MAY  ACT  HIS  PART       107 


any  pursuit,  this  thou  canst  do.     This,  therefore, 
practice  to  attain — namely,  the  attainable. 

2.  The  lord  of  each  of  us  is  he  that  hath  power 
over  the  things  that  we  desire  or  dislike,  to  give 
or  to  take  them  away.  Whosoever,  then  will  be 
free,  let  him  neither  desire  nor  shun  any  of  the 
things  that  are  in  others'  power ;  otherwise  he 
must  needs  be  enslaved. 

3.  Wherefore  Demetrius  ^  said  to  Nero,  You 
threaten  me  ivith  death^  hut  Nature  threatens 
you.  If  I  am  taken  up  with  my  poor  body,  or 
my  property,  I  have  given  myself  over  to  slav- 
ery ;  for  I  immediately  show  of  my  own  self 
with  what  I  may  be  captured.  As  when  a  snake 
draws  in  his  head,  1  say,  Strike  at  that  part  of 
him  which  he  ynards.  And  know  thou,  that  at 
the  part  thou  desirest  to  guard,  there  thy  master 
will  fall  upon  tliee.  Remembering  this,  whom 
wilt  thou  still  flatter  or  fear  ? 

4.  Think  that  thou  shouldst  conduct  thyself  in 
life  as  at  a  feast.  Is  some  dish  brought  to  thee  ? 
Then  put  forth  thy  hand  and  help  thyself  in 
seemly  fashion.  Doth  it  pass  thee  by  ?  Then 
hold  it  not  back.  Ilath  it  not  yet  come  ?  Then 
do  not  reach  out  for  it  at  a  distance,  but  wait 
till  it  is  at  thine  hand.  And  thus  doing  with 
regard  to  children  and  wife  and  governments 
and  wealth,  thou  wilt  be  a  wortliy  guest  at  the 
table  of  the  Gods.  And  if  thou  ever  pass  over 
things  that  are  offered  to  thee,  and  refuse  to 
take  of  them,  then  thou  wilt  not  only  share  the 
banquet,  but  also  the  dominion  of  the  Gods. 
For  so  doing  Diogenes  and  Heraclitus,  and  the 
like,  both  were,  and  were  reported  to  be,  rightly 
divine. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THAT   WE   LAMENT   NOT   FROM   WITHIN. 

When  thou  seest  one  lamenting  in  grief  be- 
cause his  son  is  gone  abroad,  or  because  he  hath 
lost  his  goods,  look  to  it  that  thou  be  not  carried 
away  by  the  appearance  to  think  that  he  hath 
truly  fallen  into  misfortune,  in  outward  things. 
But  be  the  thought  at  hand.  It  is  not  the  thing 
itself  that  afflicts  this  man — since  there  are 
others  lahom  it  afflicts  not — hut  the  opinion  he 
hasahout  it.  And  so  far  as  speech,  be  not  slow 
to  fit  thyself  to  his  mood,  and  even  if  so  it  be  to 
lament  with  him.  But  have  a  care  that  thou 
lament  not  also  from  within. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THAT  A  MAN  MAY  ACT  HIS  PART  BUT  NOT  CHOOSE  IT. 

1.  Remember  that  thou  art  an  actor  in  a  play, 
of  such  a  part  as  it  may  please  the  director  to 
assign  thee ;  of  a  short  part  if  he  choose  a  short 
part ;  of  a  long  one  if  he  choose  a  long.  And 
if  he  will  have  thee  take  the  part  of  a  poor  man 
or  of  a  cripple,  or  a  governor,  or  a  private  per- 
son, mayest  thou  act  that  part  with  grace !  For 
thine  it  is  to  act  well  the  alloted  part,  but  to 
choose  it  is  another's. 

2.  Say  no  more  then.  How  will  it  he  with  me  ? 
for  however  it  be  thou  wilt  settle  it  well,  and 
the  issue  shall  be  fortunate.  What  would  Her- 
cules have  been  had  he  ^dAA^  How  shall  I  con- 
trive that  a  great  lion  iiiay  not  appear  to  me^  or 
a  great  hoar^  or  a  savage  man  ?  And  what  hast 
thou  to  do  with  that  ?  if  a  great  boar  appear, 
thou  wilt  fight  the  greater  fight;  if  evil  men, 


106 


EPICTETUS. 


tlion  wilt  clear  the  earth  of  them.  But  if  I  die 
thus?  Thou  wilt  die  a  good  man,  in  the  acconi- 
plisliing  of  a  noble  deed.  For  since  we  nnist  by 
all  means  die,  a  man  cannot  be  found  but  he 
will  be  doing  somewhat,  either  tilling  or  digging 
or  trading  or  governing,  or  having  an  indigestion 
or  a  diarrhoea.  What  wilt  thou,  then,  tliat 
Death  shall  lind  thee  doing?  I,  for  my  part, 
will  choose  some  work,  humane,  beneficent,  so- 
cial, noble.  But  if  I  am  not  able  to  be  found 
doing  things  of  this  greatness,  then,  at  least,  I 
will  be  doing  that  which  none  can  hinder  me  to 
do,  that  w^hicli  is  given  to  me  to  do — namely, 
correcting  myself,  bettering  my  faculty  for  mak- 
ing use  of  appearances,  working  out  my  peace, 
giving  what  is  due  in  every  obligation  of  life  ; 
and  if  I  prosper  so  far,  then  entering  upon  the 
third  topic  of  philosophy,  which  concerneth  the 
security  of  judgments. 

3.  If  Death  shall  find  me  in  the  midst  of  these 
studies,  it  shall  suffice  me  if  I  can  lift  up  my 
hands  to  God  and  say,  The  means  which  thou 
gavest  me  fo7'  the  perceiving  of  thy  government^ 
and  for  the  following  of  the  same^  have  I  not 
neglected :  so  far  in  me  I  have  not  dishonored 
thee.  Behold  how  I  have  used  my  senses^  and 
my  natural  conceptions.  Have  I  ever  hlamed 
theef  was  I  ever  offended  at  aught  that  hap- 
pened^ or  did  I  desire  it  should  happen  other- 
wisef  Did  I  ever  desire  to  transgress  my 
obligations  f  That  thou  didst  heget  me  I  thanJc 
tJiee  for  what  thou  gavest :  I  am  content  that  1 
ha/ce  used  thy  gifts  so  long.  TaTce  them  again^ 
and  set  them  in  what  place  thou  wilt^for  thine 
were  all  things^  and  thou  gavest  them  me. 

4.  Is  it  not  enough  to  depart  in  this  condition  ? 
and  what  life  is  better  and  fairer  than  one  like 
this,  and  what  end  more  happy  ? 


DISTINCTIONS, 


109 


CHAPTEK  XXL 

DISTINCTIONS. 

1.  When  a  raven  croaks  you  a  bad  omen,  be 
not  carried  aw^ay  by  the  appearance ;  but  straight- 
way distinguish  witli  yourself  and  say,  Non^  of 
these  things  hodes  aught  to  myself^  hut  either  to 
this  poor  body  or  this  wretched  property  of  mine^ 
or  to  my  good  repute^  or  to  my  children^  or  to 
my  wife.  But  to  me  all  omens  are  fortunate., 
if  I  choose  to  have  it  so.  For  lohatever  of  these 
things  may  come  to  pass^  it  lies  with  me  to  have 
it  serve  me. 

2.  You  may  be  always  victorious  if  you  will 
never  enter  into  any  contest  but  where  the  vic- 
tory dei)ends  upon  yourself. 

3.  When  you  shall  see  a  man  honored  above 
others,  or  mighty  in  power,  or  otherwise  esteemed, 
look  to  it  that  thou  deem  him  not  blessed,  being 
carried  away  by  the  appearance.  For  if  the 
essence  of  the  Good  be  in  those  things  that  are 
in  our  own  power,  tlien  neither  envy  nor  jealousy 
have  any  place,  nor  thou  thyself  shalt  not  de- 
sire to  be  commander  or  prince  or  consul,  but  to 
be  free.  And  to  this  there  is  one  road — scorn 
of  the  things  that  are  not  in  our  owm  power. 

4.  Kemember,  it  is  not  he  that  strikes  or  he 
that  reviles  that  doth  any  man  an  injury,  but  the 
opinion  about  these  things,  that  they  are  inju- 
rious. When,  then,  some  "one  may  provoke  thee 
to  wrath,  know  that  it  is  thine  own  conception 
which  hath  provoked  thee.  Strive,  therefore,  at 
the  outset  not  to  be  carried  away  by  the  appear- 
ance ;  for  if  thou  once  gain  time  and  delay,  thou 
wilt  more  easily  master  thyself. 

5.  Death  and  exile,  and  all  things  that  appear 
dreadful,  let  these  be  every  day  before  thine 


no 


EPICTETUS. 


eyes.  But  Death  raost  of  all ;  for  so  thou  wilt 
neither  despise  nor  too  greatly  desire  any  condi- 
tion of  life. 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

THAT  A   MAN   IS   SUFFICIENT   TO   HIMSELF. 

1.  If  thou  set  thine  heart  upon  philosophy, 
prepare  straightway  to  be  laughed  at  and  mocked 
by  many  who  will  say,  Behold,  he  has  suddenly 
cmne  hack  to  us  a  philosopher ;  or,  IIow  came 
you  hy  that  hrow  of  scorn  f  But  do  tliou  cher- 
isli  no  scorn,  but  hold  to  tliose  things  that  seem 
to  thee  the  best,  as  one  set  by  God  in  that  place. 
Remember,  too,  that  if  thou  abide  in  that  way, 
those  that  Urst  mocked  thee,  tlie  same  sliall  after- 
wards reverence  thee ;  but  if  thou  yield  to  tliem, 
thou  shalt  receive  double  mockery. 

2.  If  it  shall  ever  happen  to  thee  to  be  turned 
to  outward  things  in  the  desire  to  please  some 

Eerson,  know  that  thou  hast  lost  thy  way  of  life, 
et  it  be  enough  for  thee  in  all  things  to  le  a 
philosopher.  But  if  thou  desire  also'  to  seem 
one,  then  seem  so  to  thyself,  for  this  thou  canst. 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 

THAT  EVERY  MAN   FULFIL   HIS   OWN   TASK. 

1.  Let  such  thoughts  never  afflict  thee  as,  I 
shall  live  unhonored,  and  nemr  he  anyhody  any- 
where. For  if  lack  of  honor  be  an  evil,  thou 
canst  no  more  fall  into  evil  tin-ough  another's 
doings  than  into  vice.  Is  it,  then,  of  thy  own 
doing  to  be  made  a  governor,  or  invited  to  feasts  ? 
By  no  means.  How,  then,  is  this  to  be  un- 
honored  ?  How  shouldst  thou  never  he  anyhody 
anywhere^  whom  it  behoves  to  be  somebody  only 


THAT  EVERY  MAN  FULFIL  HIS  TASK.     Ill 

in  the  things  that  are  in  thine  own  power, 
wherein  it  lies  with  thee  to  be  of  the  greatest 
worth  ? 

2.  But  I  shall  not  he  ahle  to  serve  my  friends. 
How  sayst  thou?  to  serve  them?  They  shall 
not  have  money  from  thee,  nor  shalt  thou  make 
them  Roman  citizens.  Who,  then,  told  thee 
that  these  were  of  tlie  things  that  are  in  our 
power,  and  not  alien  to  us  ?  And  who  can  give 
that  which  himself  hath  not  ? 

3.  Acquire,  then,  they  say,  that  we  may  pos- 
sess. If  I  can  acquire,  and  lose  not  piety,  and 
faith,  and  magnanimity  withal,  show  me  the 
way,  and  I  will  do  it.  But  if  ye  will  have  me 
lose  the  good  things  I  possess,  that  ye  may  com- 
pass things  that  are  not  good  at  all,  how  unjust 
and  unthinking  are  ye!  But  which  will  ye 
rather  have— money,  or  a  faithful  and  pious 
friend  ?  Then,  rather  take  part  with  me  to  this 
end ;  and  ask  me  not  to  do  aught  through  which 
I  must  cast  away  those  things." 

4:.  But,  he  saith,  I  shall  not  do  my  part  in 
serving  my  country.  Again,  what  is  this  ser- 
vice? Thy  country  shall  not  have  porticos  nor 
baths  from  thee,  and  what  then  ?  ]N  either  hath 
slie  shoes  from  the  smith,  nor  arms  from  the 
cobbler ;  but  it  is  enough  if  everv  man  fulfil  his 
own  task.  And  if  thou  hast  made  one  other 
pious  and  faithful  citizen  for  her,  art  thou,  then, 
of  no  service  ?  Wherefore,  neither  shalt  thou 
be  uselessness  to  thy  country. 

5.  What  place,  then,  he  saith,  can  1  hold  in 
the  State  ?  Whatever  place  thou  canst,  guard- 
ing still  thy  faith  and  piety.  But  if  in  wishing 
to  serve  her  thou  cast  away  these  things,  what 
wilt  thou  profit  her  then,  when  perfected  in 
shamelessness  and  falsehood  ? 


112 


EPICTETUS. 


'.1 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   world's   price   FOR   THE   WORLd's   WORTH. 

1.  Is  some  one  preferred  before  thee  at  a  feast, 
or  iu  salutation,  or  in  beini?  invited  to  give  coun- 
sel ?  Then,  if  these  things  are  good,  it  behoves 
thee  rejoice  that  he  hath  gained  them ;  but  if 
evil,  be  not  vexed  that  thou  hast  not  gained 
them ;  but  remember  that  if  thou  act  not  as 
other  men  to  gain  the  things  that  are  not  in  our 
own  power,  neither  canst  thou  be  held  worthy 
of  a  like  reward  with  tliem. 

2.  For  how  is  it  possible  for  him  who  will  not 
hang  al)Out  other  men's  doors  to  have  a  like  re- 
ward with  him  who  doth  so  ?  or  him  who  will  not 
attend  on  them  with  him  wlio  doth  attend?  or 
him  who  will  not  flatter  them  with  the  flatterer? 
Thou  art  unjust,  then,  and  insatiable,  if  thou  de- 
sire to  gain  those  things  for  nothing,  without 
paying  the  price  for  which  they  are  sold. 

3.  J3ut  how  much  is  a  lettuce  sold  for?  A 
penny,  perchance.  If  anyone,  then,  Avill  spend 
a  penny,  he  shall  have  lettuce;  but  thou,  not 
spending,  shalt  not  have.  But  think  not  thou 
art  worse  ofl[  than  he ;  for  as  he  has  the  lettuce, 
so  thou  the  penny  which  thou  wouldst  not  give. 

4.  And  likewise  in  this  matter.  Thou  art  not 
invited  to  some  man's  feast  ?  That  is,  for  thou 
gavest  not  to  the  host  the  price  of  the  supper ; 
and  it  is  sold  for  flattery,  it  is  sold  for  attend- 
ance. Pay,  then,  the  price,  if  it  will  proflt  thee, 
for  which  the  thing  is  sold.  But  if  thou  wilt 
not  give  the  price,  and  wilt  have  the  thing, 
greedy  art  thon  and  infatuated. 

5.  Shalt  thou  hfive  nothing,  then,  instead  of 
the  supper?  Thou  shalt  have  this — not  to  have 
praise<4  one  wljoiu  thoii  h^dt^t  no  mind  to  praise. 


THAT  A  MAN  SHOULD  BE  ONE  MAN.      ]  13 

and  not  to  have  endured  the  insolence  of  his 
door-keepers. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

AIMS   OF   NATURE. 

1.  The  will  of  Nature  is  to  be  learned  from 
matters  which  do  not  concern  ourselves.^  Thus, 
when  a  boy  may  break  the  cup  of  another  man, 
we  are  ready  to  say.  It  is  a  comfuon  chance. 
Know,  then,  that  when  thine  own  is  broken,  it 
bebehoves  thee  to  be  as  though  it  were  another 
man's.  And  apply  this  even  "to  greater  things. 
Has  another  man's  child  died,  or  his  wife?  who 
is  there  that  will  not  say.  It  is  the  lot  of  humane 
ity.  But  when  his  own  may  die,  then  straight- 
way it  is,  Alas^  wretched  that  I  am  !  But  we 
should  bethink  ourselves  what  we  felt  on  hear- 
ing of  others  in  the  same  plight. 

2.  As  a  mark  is  not  set  up  to  be  missed,  even 
so  the  nature  of  evil  exists  not  in  the  universe. 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

THE  mind's   security. 

If  any  one  should  set  your  body  at  the  mercy 
of  every  passer-by,  you  would  be  indignant. 
When,  therefore,  you  set  your  own  mind  at  the 
mercy  of  every  chance,  to  be  troubled  and  per- 
turbed when  any  one  may  revile  you,  have  you 
no  shame  of  this  ? 


CHAPTER  XXYIL 

that  a  man  should  be  one  man. 

1.  Of  every  work  you  will  take  in  hand  mark 
well  the  prefaces  and  the  consequences,  and  so 
proceed,  For  else  you  shall  at  first  set  out 
eagerlj^j  as  uot  regarding  what  is  to  follow  j  but 


/ 


114 


EPICTETUS, 


in   the  end,  if  any  difficulties  have  arisen,  jou 
will  leave  it  off  with  shaine. 

2.  80  you  wish  to  conquer  in  tlie  Olympic 
games?  And  I  too,  by  the  Gods;  and  a  line 
thing  it  would  be.  But  mark  tlie  prefaces  and 
the  consequences,  and  tlien  set  to  work.  You 
must  go  under  discipline,  eat  by  rule,  abstain 
from  dainties,  exercise  yourself  at  the  appointed 
liour,  in  heat  or  cold,  whether  you  will  or  no, 
drink  nothing  cold,  nor  wine  at  will ;  in  a  word, 
you  must  give  yourself  over  to  the  trainer  as  to 
a  physician.  Then  in  the  contest  itself  there  is 
the  digging  race,^  and  you  are  like  enough  to 
dislocate  your  wrist,  or  turn  your  ankle,  to  swal- 
low a  great  deal  of  dust,  to  be  soundly  drubbed, 
and  after  all  these  things  to  be  defeated. 

3.  If,  having  considered  these  things,  j^ou  are 
still  in  the  mind  to  enter  for  the  contest,  then  do 
60.  But  without  consideration  you  will  turn  from 
one  thing  to  another  like  a  child,  who  now  plays 
the  wrestler,  now  the  gladiator,  now  sounds  the 
trumpet,  then  declaims  like  an  actor;  and  so  you, 
too,  will  be  first  an  athlete,  then  a  gladiator,  then 
an  orator,  then  a  philosopher,  and  nothing  with 
your  whole  soul ;  but  as  an  ape  you  will  mimic 
everything  you  see,  and  be  charmed  with  one 
thing  after  another.  For  you  approached  noth- 
ing with  consideration  nor  regularity,  but  raslily, 
and  with  a  cold  desire. 

4.  And  thus  some  men,  having  seen  a  philoso- 
pher, and  heard  discourse  like  that  of  Euphrates'-^ 
(yet  who  indeed  can  say  that  any  discourse  is  like 
liis  ?)  desire  that  they  also  may  become  philoso- 
phers. 

5.  But,  O  man !  consider  first  what  it  is  you 
are  about  to  do,  and  then  inquire  of  your  own 
nature  whether  you  can  carry  it  out.  Will  you 
be  a  pentathlos,'^  or  a  wrestler?  Then,  scan 
your  arms  and  thighs ;  try  your  loins.  For  dif-^ 
ferent  men  are  made  for  4ifferent  ends. 


THAT  A  MAN  SHOULD  BE  ONE  MAN,     115 

6.  Think  you,  you  can  be  a  sage,  and  continue 
to  eat  and  drink  and  be  wrathful  and  take  offence 
just  as  you  were  wont?  Nay,  but  you  must 
watch  and  labor,  and  withdraw  yourself  from 
your  household,  and  be  despised  by  any  servino- 
boy,  and  be  ridiculed  by  your  neighbors,  and 
take  the  lower  place  everywhere,  in  honors,  in 
authority,  in  courts  of  justice,  in  dealings  of 
every  kind.* 

7.  Consider  these  things— whether  you  are  will- 
ing at  such  a  price  to  gain  peace,  freedom,  and 
an  untroubled  spirit.  And  if  not,  then  atttempt 
it  not,  nor,  like  a  child,  play  now  the  philoso- 
pher, then  the  tax-gatherer,  then  the  orator, 
then  the  Procurator  of  Caesar.  For  these  things 
agree  not  among  themselves;  and,  good  or  bad. 
It  behoves  you  to  be  one  man.  You  should  be 
perfecting  either  your  own  ruling  faculty,  or 
your  outward  well-being;  spending  your  art 
either  on  the  life  within  or  the  life  without ; 
that  is  to  say,  you  must  hold  your  place  either 
among  the  sages  or  the  vulgar. 


END  OF  BOOK   U, 


BOOK  III. 


CHAPTER  L 

OBLIGATIONS. 

1.  Obligations  are  univ^ersally  defined  by  the 
bonds  of  relation.  Is  such  a  man  your  father  ? 
Then  you  are  to  bear  dictation  from  him,  to  take 
care  of  him,  to  give  place  to  him  in  all  things,  to 
bear  his  rebukes,  his  chastisement.  J3itt  if  he  he 
a  had  father  ?  Were  you  then  related  by  any 
law  of  Nature  to  a  good  father?     Nay,  but  sim- 

ly  to  a  father.     Your  brother  does  you  wrong. 

hen  guard  your  own  place  towards  him,  nor 
scrutinize  what  he  is  doing,  but  what  you  may 
do  to  keep  your  will  in  accord  with  Nature.  For 
none  other  shall  hurt  you,  if  yourself  choose  it 
not,  but  you  shall  be  hurt  then  when  you  con- 
ceive yourself  to  be  so. 

2.  Thus  shall  you  discover  your  obligations 
from  the  offices  of  a  neighbor,  a  citizen,  a  general, 
if  you  \\\\\  accustom  yourself  to  watch  the  rela- 
tionships. 


^ 


I 

I'l  I 


CHAPTER  II. 

AGAINST   EPICUKUS. 

1.  Even  Epicurus  is  conscious  that  we  are  by 
nature  social,  but  having  once  placed  the  good 
in  the  husk,^  he  cannot  thereafter  speak  anything 
but  what  agrees  with  this ;  for  again  he  affirms, 
and  riorhtlv  affirms,  that  nothino-  is  to  bcv^dmired 
or  received  that  is  separated  from  tlie>»nature  of 
the  Good.     How  tlien,  Epicnrns,  do  you  suspect 


AGAINST  EPICURUS. 


117 


that  we  are  social,  if  Nature  had  mven  us  no 
affection  for  our  offspring  ?  ^  Wherefore  do  you 
counsel  the  sage  against  bringing  up  children  'i 
Why  do  you  fear  lest  he  fall  into  sorrow  by  so 
doing?  Both  he  fall  into  sorrow  for  the  mouse 
that  lives  in  his  house  ?  What  careth  he  if  a 
little  mouse  complain  to  him  at  home  ?  But  he 
knows  well  that  if  a  little  child  be  born,  it  is  no 
longer  m  our  power  not  to  love  it  and  be  anxious 
for  it.  ^ 

S.  Thus,  too,  he  saith  that  no  man  of  sense 
will  take  part  in  affairs  of  the  state,  for  he  knows 
what  he  wlio  takes  part  in  them  must  do ;  but 
what  should  hinder  one  to  take  part,  if  he  mav 
behave  among  men  as  in  a  swarm  of  flies  ?    But 
Epicurus,  knowing  these   things,  dares  to  say 
tliat  we  should  not  rear  up  our  children.     But 
even  a  sheep  will  not  desert  its  young,  nor  a 
wolf ;  and  shall  a  man  ?      What !  will  you  have 
m  to  be  silly  creatures  like  the  sheep  f     Yet  they 
desert  not  their  young.     Or  savage,  like  wolves'? 
let  even  they   desert  them  not.     Come,  then, 
who  would  obey  you  if  he  saw  his  little  child 
fall  on  the  ground  and  cry?     For  my  part    I 
suppose   that  had   it  been   prophesied"  to  your 
mother  and  your  father  that  you  would  say  these 
things,  not  even  so  would  they  have  cast  you  out. 
3.  But  how  can  it  he  said  of  these  outward 
things-  that  they  are  according  to  Nature,  or 
contrary  to  Nature  f    That  is  to  speak  as  if  we 
\yere  solitary  and  disunited  from  others.     For  to 
the  foot  I  shall  say  it  is  according  to  Nature  that 
It  be  clean  ;  but  if  you  take  it  as  a  foot,  and  not 
as  a  solitary  thing,  it  shall  beseem  it  to  go  into 
the  mud,  and  to  tread  on  thorns,  and  perchance 
to  be  cut  off,  for  the  sake  of  the  whole :  other- 
wise it  is  no  longer  a  foot. 

4.  And  some  such  thing  we  should  suppose 
fibout  ourselves  also.  What  art  thou  ?  A  man. 
Look   at   thyself   as  a  solitary    creature,  and 


I 


118 


EPICTETUS. 


AGAINST  THE  EPICUREANS. 


119 


it  is  according  to  Nature  to  live  to  old  age,  to 
grow  rich,  to  keep  good  health.  But  if  thou 
look  at  thyself  as  a  man,  and  as  a  part  of  a  cer- 
tain Whole,  for  the  sake  of  that  Whole  it  may 
become  thee  now  to  have  sickness,  now  to  sail 
the  seas  and  run  into  peril,  now  to  suffer  need, 
and  perchance  to  die  before  thy  time. 

5.  Why,  then,  dost  thou  bear  it  hard  ?  Know- 
est  thou  not,  that  as  the  foot  alone  is  not  a  foot, 
so  thou  alone  art  not  a  ^an?  For  what  is  a 
man  ?  A  part  of  a  polity,  first  of  that  which  is 
made  up  of  Gods  and  men  ;  then  of  that  which 
is  said  to  be  next  to  the  other,  which  is  a  small 
copy  of  the  Universal  Polity. 

6.  T/ie7i  must  I  now  he  hr ought  to  trials  and 
now  must  another  have  a  fever  ^  and  another  sail 
the  seas,  another  die,  another  he  sentenced  f  Yea, 
for  such  a  body,  in  the  bounds  of  such  a  uni- 
verse, in  sucli  a  throng  of  inliabitants,  it  cannot 
be  but  that  different  tilings  of  this  nature  should 
fall  on  different  persons.  This  is  thy  task  then, 
having  come  into  the  world,  to  speak  what  thou 
shouldst,  and  to  order  these  things  as  it  is  fitting. 

7.  Tlien,  some  one  saith,  /  charge  you  with 
wrong-doing.  Much  good  may  it  be  to  thee !  I 
liave  done  my  part — look  to  it  thyself  if  thou 
have  done  thine,  for  of  this  too  there  is  some 
danger,  lest  it  escape  thee. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

AGAINST  THE   EPICUREANS   AND    ACADEMICS. 

1.  Beliefs  which  are  sound  and  manifestly 
true  are  of  necessity  used  even  by  those  who 
deny  them.  And  perhaps  a  man  might  adduce 
this  as  the  greatest  possible  proof  of  the  mani- 
fest truth  of  anything,  that  those  who  deny  it 
are  compelled  to  make  use  of  it.  Thus,  if  a  man 
should  deny  that  there  is  anything  uuiversallv 


true,  it  is  clear  that  lie  is  obliged  to  aflirm  the 
contrary,  the  negation— that  there  is  nothing 
universally  true.^  Slave!  not  even  this— for 
what  is  this  but  to  say  that  if  there  is  anything 
universal  it  is  falsehood  ? 

2.  Again,  if  one  should  come  and  say,  K710W 
that  nothing  can  he  known,  hut  all  things  are  in- 
cajpahle  of  proof;  or  another.  Believe  me,  and 
it  shall  profit  thee,  that  no  man  ought  to  helieve 
any  man;  or,  again,  another,  Learn  from  me, 
0  man,  that  it  is  notjpossihle  to  learn  anything, 
and  I  tell  thee  this,  and  I  will  teach  thee,  if 
thou  u)ilt — now  wherein  do  such  men  differ  from 
those— whom  shall  I  say  ?— those  who  call  them- 
selves Academics  ?  Assent,  0  men,  that  no  man 
can  assent  to  aught;  helieve  us  that  no  man  can 
helieve  any  one. 

3.  Thus  Epicurus,  when  he  would  abolish  the 
natural  fellowship   of  men   with   one   another, 
employeth  the  very  thing  that  is  being  abolished. 
For  what  saith  he?    Be  not  deceived,  0  men, 
nor  misguided  nor  mistaken — there  is  710  7iat' 
ural  fellowship  among  reaso7iing  heings,  helieve 
me ;  and  those  who  speak  otherwise  deceive  us 
with  sophisms.     What  is  that  to  thee  ?  let  us  be 
deceived !     Will  it  be  the  worse  for  thee  if  all 
other  men  are  persuaded  that  we  have  a  natural 
fellowship  witli  one  another,  and  that  we  should 
in  all  ways  maintain  it  ?     Nay,  but  much  the  bet- 
ter and  safev.     Man,  why  dost  thou  take  thought 
for  us,  and  watch  at  night  for  our  sakes?     Why 
tlost  thou  kindle  thy  lamp  and  rise  early  ?  why 
dost  thou  write  so  many  books,  lest  any  of  us 
should  be  deceived  about  the  Gods,  in  supposing 
that  they  cared  for  men  ?  or  lest  any  one  should 
take  the  essence  of  the  Good  to  be  anything  else 
than  Pleasure?     For  if  these  things  are  so,'~then 
lie  down  and  sleep,  and  live  the  life  of  a  worm, 
wherefor  thou  hast  judged   thyself  fit ;  eat  and 
drink  and  cohabit  and^  ease  thyself  and  snore. 


120 


EPICTETUS. 


What  IS  it  to  thee  Jiow  other  men  think  concern- 
ing these  matters,  whetlier  soundly  or  unsoundly  ? 
What  liast  thou  to  do  with  us  ?  With  sheep  hast 
thou  some  concern,  for  that  they  serve  us  when 
they  are  sliorn,  and  when  they  are  milked,  and  at 
last  when  they  have  their  throats  cut.  Were  it 
not,  then,  to  be  desired,  if  men  could  be  lulled  and 
charmed  to  slumber  by  the  Stoics,  and  give  them- 
selves to  thee  and  the  like  of  thee,  to  be  shorn  and 
milked  ?  These  things  shouldst  thou  say  to  thy 
brother  Epicureans ;  but  shouldst  thou  not  keep 
them  hidden  from  other  men,  and  seek  in  every 
way  to  persuade  them  above  all  things  that  we 
are  by  nature  social,  and  that  temperance  is 
good ;  in  order  that  every  thing  may  be  kept 
for  thee  ?  Or  should  we  preserve  this  fellow- 
ship with  some  and  not  with  others?  With 
whom,  then,  should  we  preserve  it  ?  With  those 
who  also  preserve  it  towards  us,  or  with  those 
w^ho  transgress  it  ?  And  who  transgress  it  more 
than  ye,  wlio  set  forth  such  doctrines  ? 

4.  What,  then,  w^as  it  that  roused  up  Epicurus 
from  his  sleep,  and  compelled  him  to  write  the 
things  he  wTote?  What  else  than  Nature,  the 
mightiest  of  all  powders  in  humanity  ?  Nature, 
that  draffs  the  man,  reluctant  and  groaning,  to 
her  will.  J^or^  saitli  she,  sifice  it  seems  to  thee 
that  there  is  no  fellowship  among  men^  write 
this  down^  and  deliver  it  to  others^  and  watch 
and  wahefor  this^  and  he  thyself  hy  thine  own 
deed  the  accuser  of  thine  aivn  opinimis.  Shall 
we  then,  say  that  Orestes  M'as  driven  by  the 
Furies  and  aroused  from  sleep,  and  did  not  cruel- 
ler Furies  and  Avengers  rouse  this  man  as  he 
slumbered,  and  suffered  him  not  to  rest,  but 
compelled  him,  as  madness  and  wine  the  priests 
of  Cybele,^  to  proclaim  his  own  evils  ^  So 
mightv  and  invincible  a  tiling  is  man's  nature. 

5.  For  how  can  a  vine  be  affected,  and  not  in 
the  manner  of  a  vine,  but  of  an  olive  ?     Or  how 


AGAINST  THE  EPICUREANS. 


131 


again,  can  an  olive  be  affected  not  in  the  manner 
of  an  olive  but  of  a  vine  ?  It  is  impossible,  it 
cannot  be  conceived.  Neither,  then,  is  it  pos- 
sible for  a  man  wholly  to  lose  the  affections  of 
humanity,  for  even  eunuchs  cannot  cut  away 
from  themselves  the  desires  of  men.  And  thus 
Epicurus  has  cut  away  all  that  belongs  to  a  man 
as  father  of  a  family,  and  as  citizen,  and  as 
friend ;  but  the  desires  of  humanity  he  hath  not 
cut  away,  for  he  could  not ;  no  more  than  these 
pitiful  Academics  are  able  to  cast  away  or  to 
blind  their  own  perceptions,  although  this  is  the 
thing  that  they  have  striven  with'all  their  zeal 
to  do. 

6.^  How  shameful  is  this !  that  a  man  having 
received  from  Nature  measures  and  canons  for 
the  recognition  of  truth,  should  study  not  to  add 
to  them  and  perfect  them  where  they  are  want- 
ing, but  the  very  contrary  of  this ;  if  there  be 
anything  that  may  lead  us  to  the  knowledge  of 
the  truth,  they  strive  to  abolish  and  destroy  it. 

7.  What  sayest  thou,  philosopher?  religion 
and  holiness,  what  dost  thou  take  them  for  ?  ^ 

"  If  thou   wilt,  I  shall  prove  that   they 

are  good." 

So  be  it ;  prove  it  then,  in  order  that  our  citi 
zens  may  be  converted  and  honor  the  Divinitv, 
and  be  no  longer  neglectful  of  the  greatest 
things. 

'^Now  hast  thou  received  the  proofs?" 

I  have,  and  am  thankful  therefor. 

8.  "  Now   since    thou    art    exceedingly 

well  pleased  with  these  things,  hear  the  con- 
trary :  There  are  no  Gods,  or  if  there  be,  they 
have  no  care  for  men,  nor  have  we  any  commun- 
ion with  them ;  and  this  religion  and  holiness, 
whereof  the  multitude  babble,  is  the  lying  of 
impostors  and  sophists,  or  of  legislators,  by 
Zeus !  for  the  frighting  and  restraining  of  evil- 
doers." 


122 


EPICTETUS. 


Well  said,  philosopher !  the  citizen  shall  have 
much  profit  of  thee  !  thou  hast  already  brought 
back  all  our  youths  to  the  contempt  of  sacred 

things. 

"  What  now  ?    are  these    doctrines   not 

pleasing  to  thee  ?  Learn,  then,  that  Righteous- 
ness is  nothing,  that  Reverence  is  folly,  tliat  a 
father  is  nothing,  a  son  nothing." 

Well  said,  philosopher  !  proceed,  persuade  the 
young,  that  we  may  multiply  the  number  of 
those  who  believe  and  speak  with  thee.  From 
these  teachings  have  grown  our  well-governed 
States,  from  these  did  Sparta  spring,  and  these 
beliefs,  by  his  laws  and  discipline,  did  Lycurgus 
plant  among  his  people  :~That  slavery  is  no 
more  base  than  honorable,  nor  to  be  free  men 
more  honorable  than  base.  Through  these  opin- 
ions died  those  who  fell  at  Thermopylae,  and 
through  what  others  did  the  Atlienians  forsake 
their  city  ?  ^ 

9.  Then  those  who  speak  such  things  marry, 
and  beget  children,  and  take  part  in  public  affairs, 
and  make  themselves  priests  and  augurs — of 
what  ?  Of  beings  that  do  not  exist !  and  they 
question  the  Pythian  oracle  that  tliey  may  learn 
falsehoods  ;  and  they  declare  the  oracles  to  others. 
O  monstrous  impudence  and  imposture ! 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ON   SLAVERY. 

1.  A  CERTAIN  man  having  inquired  how  one 
may  make  his  meals  in  a  manner  pleasing  to  the 
Gods,  If  he  do  it  uprightly,  said  Epictetus,  and 
considerately,  and  equably,  and  temperately,  and 
orderly,  shall  it  not  also  be  thus  pleasing  to  the 
Gods  ?  But  when  you  ask  for  hot  water,  and 
the  boy  does  not  hear,  or  hearing,  brings  it  only 
luke-warm ;  or  if  he  is  not  even  to  be  found  in  the 


TO  THE  ADMINISTRATOR,  123 

house,  then  is  it  not  pleading  to  the  Gods  if  you 
letrain  from  indignation,  and  do  not  burst  witli 
passion  i  How  shall  one  endure  such  fellows  f 
Wretch   wilt  thou  not  bear  with  thine  own  bro- 

^^LZ  %  ii  ""^  *^^^  P'^Senj  of  Zeus,  like  a  son 
sprung  o±  the  same  seed  as  tliyself,  and  of  the 
same  heavenly  descent,  but  thou  must  straidit- 

mand  m  which  thou  art  set?  Wilt  thou  not 
i;emember  who  thou  art,  and  whom  thou  rulest- 
tliat  they  are  kinsmen,  brethren  by  nature  the 

and  they  have  not  hought  me  !     Seest  thou,  then 
whither  thou  art  looking-towards  the  eai4h,  to- 
wards the  pit  of  perdition,  towards  these  miser- 
able laws  of  dead  men  ?  but  towards  tlie  laws  of 
tiie  Gods  thou  dost  not  look. 

2.  That  which  thou  wouldst  not  suffer  thyself 
seek  not  to  lay  upon  others.  Thou  wouldst  not 
be  a  slave-look  to  it,  that  others  be  not  slaves 
totliee.  For  if  thou  endure  to  have  slaves,  it 
seems  that  thou  thyself  art  first  of  all  a  slave 
i^  or  virtue  hath  no  communion  with  vice  nor 
ireedom  with  slavery. 

3  As  one  who  is  in  health  would  not  choose 
to  be  served  by  the  sick,  nor  that  those  dwell- 
ing with  him  should  be  sick,  so  neither  would 
one  that  is  free  bear  to  be  served  by  slaves,  or 
that  those  living  with  him  should  be  slaves.^ 

CHAPTER  V. 

TO   THE  ADMINISTRATOR   OF   THE   FREE  CITIES,  WHO 

WAS   AN   EPICUREAN. 

1.  The  Administrator^  having  visited  him 
(and  this  man  was  an  Epicurean),  It  is  proper 
said  Lpictetus,  that  ignorant  people  like  us 
siiould  inquire  of  you  that  are  philosophers  (as 
men  wJio  come  into  a  strange  city  make  inquiry 


\ 


i 


I 


* 


124  EPICTETUS. 

of  the  citizens  and  those  familiar  with  the  tilace) 
what  is  the  chief  thing  in  the  world,  to  the  end 
that,  having  learned  it,  we  mav  go  in  search  ot 
it,  and  behold  it,  as  men  do  with  objects  m  the 

2  Now,  that  there  are  three  things  with  which 
man  is  concerned-soul  and  body,  and  the  outer 
world-scarce  anyone  will  deny.  It  remaineth, 
then,  for  men  like  ye  to  answer  which  is  the 
chief  of  these  things  ?  What  shall  we  declare  to 
men  ?  Is  it  the  flesh  ?  And  was  it  for  this  that 
Maximns  sent  forth  his  son,  and  sailed  with  him 
throuc'h  the  tempest  as  far  as  Cassiope,''  for  some- 
v.hat'that  he  should  feel  in  the  flesh?        ■     . 

3.  But  the  Epicurean  denying  this,  and  saying, 
O'od  forbid,  Epictetns  said  : 

Is  It  not  flt,  then,  that  we  should  be  zealous 
about  that,  the  chief  thing  ? 

»  Of  all  things  most  ht."  ,     -,    ,  , 

What,  then,  have  we  greater  than  the  flesh  i 

"  The  soul,"  he  said. 

And  the  good  of  the  chief  thing,  is  it  greater 
than  the  good  of  the  lower  thing  \      ^  _ 

«  The  "-ood  of  the  chief  thing  is  greater. 

And  the  good  things  of  the  soul,  are  they  in 
the  power  of  the  Will,  or  beyond  the  Will  ^^    ■ 
"  They  are  in  the  power  ot  tlie  W  Hi. 
The  pleasure  of  the  soul,  then,  is  within  the 
power  of  the  Will  ? 
T^Tp  issGntcd. 

And  this  pleasure  itself,  whence  may  it  arise? 
From  itself  ?  But  this  is  inconceivable  ;  for  we 
must  suppose  some  oriorinal  substance  ot  tlio 
Good,  whereof  the  soul  dotli  make  us  sensible 
when  we  light  upon  it. 

This,  too,  he  admitted.  . 

Wherein,  then,  are  we  sensible  of  this  spiritual 

pleasure  ?   for  if  it  be  in  spiritual  things    the 

nature  of  the  Good  is  discovered      For  the  Good 

cannot  be  something  different  from  the  thing 


TO  THE  ADMINISTRATOR. 


125 


that  justly  delights  us  ;  nor,  if  the  original  thing 
be  not  good,  can  aught  be  good  that  proceeds 
from  it ;  for,  in  order  tliat  the  thing  proceeding 
may  be  good,  the  original  thing  must  be  good 
also.  But  this  ye  would  never  say,  if  ye  had 
your  wits,  for  so  ye  would  speak  things  that  agree 
not  with  Epicurus  and  the  rest  of  your  opinions. 
It  remains,  then,  that  we  are  conscious  in  bodily 
things  of  this  pleasure  of  the  soul,  and  again, 
that  these  are  the  original  things  and  the  very 
substance  of  the  Good.^ 

4.  Wherefore  Maximus  did  foolishly  if  he 
made  his  voyage  for  the  sake  of  anything  else 
than  the  flesh ;  that  is,  than  the  chief  thing.   And 
any  man  doth  foolishly  who  restraineth  'himself 
from  others'  good,  if  he  be  a  judge,  and  able  to 
take  them.     But,  if  you  please,  let  us  regard  this 
only,  how  it  may  be  done  secretly  and  safely,  and 
so  that  none  may  know  it.     For  neither  does 
Epicurus  himself  declare  stealing  to  be  bad,  but 
only  to  be  caught  stealing ;  and  because  it  is  im- 
possible to  be  certain  of  no  discovery,  therefore 
he  saith.  Ye  shall  not  steal.     But  I  say  that  if 
we  steal  with  skill  and  discretion,  we  shall  not  be 
caught.     And,  moreover,  if  we  have  powerful 
friends  among  men  and  women  at  Rome,  and 
the  Greeks  are  feeble,  no  one  will  dare  to  go 
thither  on  this  score.     Why  do  you  refrain  from 
your  own  good  ?    This  is  foolish — this  is  absurd. 
But  not  even  if  you  tell  me  you  do  refrain  will  I 
believe  you.     For,  as  it  is  inipossible  to  assent  to 
anything  that  appeareth  to  be  a  falsehood,  or  to 
turn  away  from  what  appeai-eth  to  be  true,  even 
so  it  is  impossible  to  withhold  oneself  from  any- 
thing that  appeareth  to  be  good.     But  riches  are 
a  good,  and,  at  all  events,  the  most  potent  means 
of    pleasure.      Wherefore,    then,   not    compass 
them?     And  why  not  corrupt  our  neighbor's 
wife,  if  we  may  do  it  secretly?  and  also^  if  the 
husband  talk  nonsense  about 'it,  let  us  fling  him 


126 


EPICTETUS. 


TO  THE  ADMINISTRATOR. 


127 


out !  If  you  will  be  a  true  and  perfect  philoso- 
pher, and  obedient  to  your  own  doctrines,  thus 
must  you  do ;  but  if  you  do  not,  you  differ  no 
whit  from  us  that  are  called  Stoics.  For  truly  we 
ourselves  say  one  thing  and  do  another ;  we  speak 
fair  and  honest  things,  and  do  vile  ones.  But 
the  opposite  distemper  will  be  thine — a  vile  creed 
and  honorable  deeds. 

5.  And  you  think,  God  help  you !  of  a  citv  of 
Epicureans  ?  /  do  riot  marry.  JVor  I ;  for  it  is 
right  not  to  marry ^  nor  beget  children,  nor  take 
part  in  public  affairs.  What  will  come  to  pass 
then  ?  W  hence  shall  we  have  citizens  ?  who  shall 
educate  tliem?  who  shall  be  the  overseer  of 
youth  ?  *  who  the  director  of  gymnastics  ?  and  how 
shall  the  youth  be  trained  up  ?  as  the  Lacedaemo- 
nians ?  or  as  the  Athenians  ?  Take  me  a  youth, 
and  bring  him  up  after  these  doctrines  of  thine ! 
Evil  are  they,  subversive  of  States,  mischievous 
to  households,  unbecoming  to  women.  Abandon 
them,  man !  Thou  dwellest  in  a  chief  city ;  it  is 
thy  part  to  rule,  to  judge  righteously,  to  refrain 
from  other  men's  goods ;  nor  must  any  woman 
seem  beautiful  to  thee  save  thine  own  wife,  nor 
vessel  of  gold  or  silver.  Seek  for  doctrines  in 
harmony  with  these  words,  from  which  setting 
out  thou  mayest  with  gladness  abandon  things  so 
potent  to  attract  and^  overcome.  But  if  beside 
the  seduction  of  these  things  we  have  sought  out 
some  philosophy  like  this  that  pushes  us  towards 
them,  and  confirms  us  in  them,  what  shall  come 

of  it  ? 

6.  In  the  graver's  work,  which  is  the  chief 
thing  ?  the  silver  or  the  art  ?  The  substance  of 
the  hand  is  flesh,  but  the  main  things  are  the 
works  of  the  hand.  The  obligations,  therefore, 
are  also  three — those  that  concern  us,  firstly,  in 
that  we  are;  and  secondly,  as  we  are;  and 
thirdly,  the  main  things  themselves.  And  thus 
in  man,  too,  it  is  not  meet  to  value  the  material, 


this  flesh,  but  the  main  things.  What  are  these  ? 
To  take  part  in  public  affairs,  to  marry,  to  beget 
children,  to  fear  God,  to  care  for  parents,  and, 
in  general,  to  pursue,  to  avoid,  to  desire,  to  dis- 
like, as  each  of  these  things  should  be  done,  as 
Nature  made  us  to  do.  And  how  njade  she  us? 
To  be  free,  generous,  pious.  For  what  other 
creature  blushes  ?  what  other  is  capable  of  the 
sense  of  shame  ? 

7.  And  to  these  things  let  Pleasure  be  subject 
as  a  minister,  a  servant,  that  she  may  summon 
forth  our  ardor,  and  that  she  also  may  aid  in 
works  that  are  according  to  Nature.^ 

_  « • 

8.  "  But  I  am  a  wealthy  man,  and  have 

no  need  of  aught." 

Why,  then,  dost  thou  profess  philosophy? 
Tliy  vessels  of  gold  and  vessels  of  silver  are 
enough  for  thee ;  what  need  hast  thou  of  doc- 
trines ? 

"  But  I  am  also  a  judge  of  the  Greeks ! " 

Dost  thou  know  how  to  judge — who  made  thee 
know  ? 

"  Csesar  wrote  me  a  commission." 

Let  him  write  thee  a  commission  to  be  a  judge 
of  music,  and  what  help  will  it  be  to  thee  ?  And 
how  didst  thou  become  a  judge  ?  by  kissing  of 
what  man's  hand  ?  Was  it  that  of  Symphorus 
or  Numenius  ?  Before  whose  bed-chamber  didst 
thou  sleep  ?  To  whom  didst  thou  send  gifts  ? 
Dost  thou  not  perceive,  then,  that  to  be  a  judge 
is  worth  just  as  much  as  Numenius  is  worth  ? 

''  But  I  can  cast  into  prison  whom  I  will." 

As  if  he  were  a  stone. 

"  But  I  can  flog  any  man  I  will." 

As  if  he  were  an  ass.  This  is  no  government 
of  men.  Rule  us  as  reasoning  beings  ;  show  us 
what  is  for  our  good,  and  we  shall  follow  it ; 
show  us  what  is  for  our  ill,  and  we  shall  turn 
away  from  it ;  make  us  emulators  of  thyself,  as 
Socrates  umde  bis  disciples,     Ile^  indeed,  w^s 


128 


EPICTETUS. 


ON  FRIENDSHIP, 


129 


l« 


I 


I 


i 


one  that  governed  men  as  men,  who  made  them 
subject  unto  him  in  their  pursuit  and  their 
avoidance,  tlieir  desire  and  dislike.  Do  this,  do 
not  this  J  or  I  will  cast  thee  into  jprison.  This  is 
not  the  rule  of  reasoning  beings.  But,  As  Zeus 
hath  ordered,  so  do  thou  act  /  hut  if  thou  dost 
not,  thou  shalt  suffer  loss  and  hurt.  What 
hurt  ?  If^one  other  than  this — not  to  have  done 
what  it  behoved  thee  to  do.  Thou  shalt  lose 
faith,  piety,  decency — looh  for  no  greater  inju- 
ries than  these. 


CHAPTER  YL 


ON   STATECRAFT. 


1.  Not  with  the  stones  of  Euboea  and  Sparta 
let  the  structure  of  3^our  city  walls  be  variegated  ; 
but  let  the  discipline  and  teachinfi:  that  comes 
from  Greece  penetrate  with  order  the  minds  of 
citizens  and  statesmen.  For  with  the  thoughts 
of  men  are  cities  well  established,  and  not  with 
wood  and  stone. 

2.  If  thou  wouldst  have  a  household  well  es- 
tablished, than  follow  the  example  of  the  Spar- 
tan Lycurgus.  For  even  as  he  did  not  fence  the 
city  with  walls,  but  fortified  the  inhabitants  with 
virtue,  and  so  preserved  the  city  free  for  ever, 
thus  do  thou  not  surround  thyself  with  a  great 
court  and  set  up  lofty  towers,  but  confirm  the 
dwellers  in  the  house  with  goodwill,  and  faith, 
and  friendliness,  and  no  harmful  thing  shall 
enter;  no,  not  if  the  whole  army  of  evil  were 
arrayed  against  it. 

3.  Which  of  us  will  not  admire  Lvcurfjus,  the 
Lacedaemonian  ?  For  having  lost  an  eye  at  the 
hands  of  one  of  the  citizens,  and  having  received 
tlie  young  man  from  the  people  that  he  should 
punish  him  as  lie  would,  he  refrained  from  this; 
but  having  taught  him  and  proved  him  to  be  a 


good  man,  he  brought  him  into  the  theatre. 
And  when  the  Lacedaemonians  marvelled,  /  re- 
ceived  this  man  from  you,  he  said,  insolent  and 
molent;  I  give  him  back  to  you  mild  and  civil. 


CHAPTEE  VIL 

ON   FRIENDSHIP. 

1.  Whereinsoever  a  man  is  zealous,  this,  it 
is  fair  to  suppose,  he  loveth.  Are  men,  then, 
zealous  for  evil  things?  Xever.^  Or,  per- 
chance, for  things  which  do  not  concern  them  ? 
Nor  for  them  either.  It  remaineth,  then,  that 
they  are  zealous  about  good  things  only ;  and 
that  if  they  are  zealous  about  them,  they  also 
love  them.  Whosoever,  then,  hath  understand- 
ing of  good  things,  the  same  would  know  how 
to  love.  But  he  who  is  not  able  to  distinguish 
good  things  from  evil,  and  things  that  are  neither 
from  both,  how  could  this  man  yet  be  capable  of 
loving  ?  To  love,  then,  is  a  quality  of  the  wise 
alone. 

2.  Aiid  hoiv  is  this,  saith  one,  for  I  am  fool- 
ish, and  none  the  less  do  I  love  my  child.  By 
the  Gods !  I  wonder,  then,  how  you  have  begun 
by  confessing  yourself  to  be  foolish.  For  where- 
in do  you  lack  ?  Do  you  not  use  your  senses  ? 
do^  you  not  judge  of  appearances  ?  do  you  not 
bring  to  the  body  the  nourishment  it  needeth, 
and  the  covering  and  habitation  ?  Wherefore^ 
then,  confess  yourself  to  be  a  fool  ?  Because,  for- 
sooth you  are  often  perplexed  by  appearances, 
and  troubled,  and  you  are  vanquished  by  their 
plausibility  ;  and  you  take  the  same  things  to  be 
now  good,  and  now  evil,  and  then  indifferent ; 
and,  in  a  word,  you  grieve  and  fear  and  envy, 
and  are  troubled,  and  changed — for  these  things 
you  confess  yourself  a  fool. 

3.  JBut  do  you  never  change  in  love  ?    But  is 


i| 


130 


EPICTETUS, 


ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


131 


i 


it  wealth,  and  pleasure,  and,  in  short,  things  alone 
that  you  sometimes  take  to  be  good  and  some- 
times evil  'i  and  do  you  not  take  the  same  men 
to  be  now  good,  now  evil  ?  and  sometimes  you 
are  friendly  disposed  towai-ds  them,  and  some- 
times hostile  ?  and  sometimes  you  praise  them, 
and  sometimes  you  blame  ? 

"  Yea,  even  so  I  do.'' 

What  then  ?  a  man  who  hath  been  deceived 
about  another,  is  he,  think  you,  his  friend  ? 

"  Assuredly  not." 

And  one  who  hath  taken  a  friend  out  of  a 
humor  for  change,  hath  he  good-will  towards 
him  ? 

"  Nor  he  eitlier.'' 

And  he  who  now  reviles  another,  and  after- 
wards reveres  him  ? 

"  Nor  he." 

What  then  ?  Sawest  thou  never  the  whelps 
of  a  dog,  how  they  fawn  and  sport  with  each 
other,  that  you  would  say  nothing  can  be  more 
loving  ?  But  to  know  what  friendship  is,  fling 
a  piece  of  flesh  among  them,  and  thou  shalt 
learn.  And  cast  between  thee  and  thy  child  a 
scrap  of  land,  and  thou  shalt  learn  how  the  child 
will  quickly  wish  to  bury  thee,  and  thou  wilt 
pray  that  he  may  die.  And  then  thou  wilt  say, 
What  a  child  have  I  nourished  !  this  long  time 
he  is  burying  me  !  Throw  a  handsome  girl  be- 
tween you,  and  the  old  man  will  love  her,  and 
the  young  too  ;  ^  and  if  it  be  glory,  or  some  risk 
to  run,  it  will  be  on  the  same  fashion.  You 
will  speak  words  of  the  father  of  Admetus^ : — 

"  Day  gladdens  thee  ;  think*st  thou  it  glads  not  me  ? 
Thou  lovest  light ;  think'st  thou  I  love  the  dark  ?  " 

Think  you  this  man  did  not  love  his  own  child 
when  it  was  little  ?  nor  was  in  agony  if  it  had  a 
fever  ?  nor  said  many  a  time,  Would  that  I  had 
the  fever  rather  than  he  !    Then  when  the  trial 


cometh  and  is  near  at  hand,  lo,  what  words  they 
utter !  And  Eteocles  and  Polyneices,*  were  they 
not  children  of  the  same  mother  and  the  same 
father  ?  were  they  not  brought  up  together,  did 
they  not  live  together,  drink  together,  sleep  to- 
gether, and  often  kiss  one  another?  So  that 
any  one  who  saw  them,  I  think,  would  have 
laughed  at  the  philosophers,  for  the  things  they 
say  perversely  about  friendship.  lUit  when 
royalty,  like  a  piece  of  flesh,  hath  fallen  between 
them,  hear  what  things  they  speak  : — 

Pol,  Where  wilt  thou  stand  before  the  towers  ? 
Et.  Wherefore  seekest  thou  to  know  ? 
PoL  TJiere  I  too  would  stand  and  slay  thee. 
Et,  Thou  hast  spoken  my  desire. 

4.  For  universally,  be  not  deceived,  nothing  is 
so  dear  to  any  creature  as  its  own  profit.  Whatso- 
ever my  seem  to  hinder  this,  be  it  father  or  child 
or  f riend^or  lover,  this  he  will  hate  and  abuse  and 
curse.  For  Nature  hath  never  so  made  anything 
as  to  love  aught  but  its  own  profit :  this  is  father 
and  brother  and  kin  and  country  and  God. 
When,  then,  the  Gods  appear  to  hinder  us  in 
this,  we  revile  even  them,  and  overthrow  their 
images  and  burn  their  temples ;  as  Alexander, 
when  his  friend  died,  commanded  to  burn  the 
temples  of  Esculapius. 

5.  Therefore,  if  a  man  place  in  the  same  thing 
both  profit  and  holiness,  and  the  beautiful  and 
fatherland,  and  parents  and  friends,  all  these 
things  shall  be  saved ;  but  if  he  place  profit  in 
one  thing,  and  friends  and  fatherland  and  kins- 
folk, yea,  and  righteousness  itself  some  other 
where,  all  these  things  shall  perish,  for  profit 
shall  outweigh  them.  For  where  the  I  and  the 
Mine  are,  thither,  of  necessity,  inclineth  every 
living  thing :  if  in  the  flesh,  then  the  supremacy 
is  there ;  if  in  the  Will,  it  is  there ;  if  in  out- 
ward things,  it  is  there.  If,  then,  mine  I  is 
where  my  Will  is,  thus  only  shall  I  be  the  friend 


132 


EPICTETUS. 


ON  FRIENDSHIP, 


133 


) 


I  should  be,  or  the  son  or  the  fatlier.  For  my 
profit  then  will  be  to  cherish  faith  and  piety  and 
forbearance  and  continence  and  helpfulness ;  and 
to  guard  the  bonds  of  relation.  But  if  I  set 
Myself  in  one  place  and  Virtue  some  other- 
where, then  the  word  of  Epicurus  waxeth  strong, 
which  declareth  tliat  there  is  no  Virtue,  or,  at 
least,  that  Virtue  is  but  conceit. 

6.  Tlirough  this  ignorance  did  Athenians  and 
Lacedseinonians   quarrel   with   each   other,  and 
Thebans  with  both  of  them,  and  the  Great  King 
with   Hellas,   and   Macedonians    with    both   of 
tliem,  and  even  now  Konians  with  Getse;  and 
through  this  yet  earlier  the  wars  of  11  ion  arose. 
Paris  was  the  guest  of  Menelaus ;  and  if  any  one 
had   seen   how   friendly-minded    towards    each 
other  they  were,  he  would  have  disbelieved  any 
one  who'  said   they  w^ere   not  friends.     But  a 
morsel  was  flung  between  them — a  fair  woman, 
and  about  her  there  was  war.     And  now  when 
you  see  friends  or  brothers  that  seem  to  be  of 
one  mind,  argue  nothing  from  this  concerning 
their  friendship ;  nay,  not  if  they  swear  it,  not  if 
they  declare  that   they  cannot   be  parted  from 
each   other.      For   in   the   ruling  faculty   of  a 
worthless  man  there  is  no  faith ;  it  is  unstable, 
unaccountable,  victim  of  one  appearance  after 
another.     But   try  them,  not,  as  others  do,   if 
they  were  born  of  the  same  parents  and  nurtured 
together,  and  under  the  same  tutor;  l)ut  by  this 
alone,  wherein  they  place  their  profit,  whether 
in  outward  things  or  in  the  will.     If  in  outward 
things,  call  them  no  more  friends  than  faithful 
or  steadfast  or  bold  or  free ;  yea,  nor  even  nien, 
if  you  had  sense.     For  that  opinion  hath  nothing 
of  humanity  that  makes  men  bite  each  other,  and 
revile  eacl^  other,  and  haunt  the  wildernesses, 
or  the  public  places,  like  the  mountains,^  and  in 
the  courts  of  justice,  to  show  forth  the  cht^racter 
of  thieves ;  nor  that  wliich  makes  men  drunls- 


ards  and  adulterers  and  corruptors,  nor  whatever 
other  ills  men  work  against  each  other  through 
this  one  and  only  opinion,  that  They  and  Theirs 
lie  in  matters  beyond  the  Will.  But  if  you 
hear,  in  sooth,  that  these  men  hold  the  Good  to 
be  there  only  where  the  Will  is,  w^here  the  right 
use  of  appearances  is,  then  be  not  busy  to  in- 
quire if  they  are  father  and  son,  or  brothers,  or 
have  long  time  companied  with  each  other  as 
comrades;  but  knowing  this  one  thing  alone, 
argue  confidently  that  they  are  friends,  even  as 
they  are  faithful  and  upright.  For  where  else 
is  friendship  than  where  faith  is,  where  piety  is, 
where  there  is  an  interchange  of  virtue,  and 
none  of  other  things  than  that  ? 

7.  JSut  such  a  one  hath  shoivn  kindness  to  me 
so  long^  and  is  he  not  my  friend?  Slave, 
whence  knowest  thou  if  he  did  not  show  thee 
kindness  as  he  wipes  his  shoes  or  tends  his  beast  ? 
Whence  knowest  thou  if,  when  thy  use  is  at  an 
end  as  a  vessel,  he  will  not  cast  thee  away  like  a 
broken  plate  ?  But  she  is  my  wife  and  we  have 
lived  together  so  long?  And  how  long  lived 
Eriphyle  with  Amphiaraus,  and  was  the  mother, 
yea,  of  many  children?  13ut  a  necklace  came 
between  them.^  But  what  is  a  necklace  ?  It  is 
the  opinion  men  have  concerning  such  things. 
That  was  the  wild  beast  nature,  that  was  the 
sundering  of  love,  that  which  would  not  allow 
the  woman  to  be  a  wife,  or  the  mother  a  mother. 
And  of  you,  whosoever  hath  longed  either  to 
be  a  friend  himself  or  to  win  some  other  for  a 
friend,  let  him  cut  out  these  opinions,  let  him 
hate  them  and  drive  them  from  his  soul. 

8.  And  thus  he  will  not  revile  himself,  nor  be 
at  strife  with  himself,  nor  be  variable,  nor  tor- 
ment himself.  And  to  another,  if  it  be  one  like 
himself,  he  will  be  altogether  as  to  himself,  but 
with  one  unlike  he  will  be  forbearing!:  and  o^entle 
and  mild,  ready  to-  forgive  him  as  an  ignorant 


134 


EPICTETUS. 


TIME  AND  CHANGE, 


135 


4 


man,  as  one  who  is  astray  about  the  greatest 
things ;  but  harsh  to  no  man,  being  well-assured 
of  that  dogma  of  Plato,  that  no  soul  is  willingly 
deprived  of  the  truth. 

9.  But  otherwise  ye  may  do  all  things  what- 
soever, even  as  friends  are  wont  to  do,  and  drink 
togetlier,  and  dwell  together,  and  voyage  to- 
gether, and  be  born  from  the  same  parents,  for 
so  are  snakes ;  but  friends,  they  are  aot,  nor  are 
ye,  so  long  as  ye  hold  these  accursed  doctrines 
of  wild  beasts. 


CHAPTER  VI IL 


TIME    AND   CHANGE. 


1.  Let  not  another's  vice  be  thy  evil.  Foi 
thou  wast  not  born  to  bo  abject  with  others,  or 
unfortunate  with  others,  but  to  prosper  with 
them.  But  if  any  one  is  unfortunate,  remember 
that  it  is  of  his  own  doing.  For  God  hath  made 
all  men  to  be  happy,  and  of  good  estate.  For 
this  end  hath  he  granted  means  and  occasions, 
giving  some  things  to  each  man  as  his  own  con- 
cern, and  some  things  as  alien ;  and  the  things 
that  are  hindered  and  subject  to  compulsion  and 
loss  are  not  his  own  concern,  and  those  that  are 
unhindered  are ;  and  the  substance  of  Good  and 
of  Evil,  as  it  were  worthy  of  him  that  careth  for 
us  and  doth  protect  us  as  a  father,  he  hath  placed 
among  our  own  concerns. 

2.  "  But  I  have  parted  from  such  a  one, 

and  he  is  grieved." 

For  why  did  he  deem  things  alien  to  be  his  own 
concern  ?  Why,  when  he  rejoiced  to  see  thee 
did  he  not  reason  tliat  thou  wert  mortal,  and  too 
apt  to  travel  to  another  land  ?  Therefore  doth 
he  pay  the  penalty  of  his  own  folly.  But  thou, 
for  wliJit  cause  or  reason  dost  thou  bewail  thy- 
self ?    llast  thou  also  given  no  thought  to  these 


things;  but  like  silly  women  consorted  with  all 
that  pleased  thee  as  though  thou  shouldst  consort 
with  tliem  forever,  places  and  persons  and  pas- 
times? and  now  thou  sittest  weeping,  because 
tliou  canst  see  the  same  persons  and  frequent  tlie 
same  place  no  longer.  This,  truly,  is  what  thou 
art  lit  for,  to  be  more  wretched  than  crows  and 
ravens  that  can  fly  wliithersoever  they  please, 
and  change  tlieir  nests,  and  pass  across  the  seas, 
nor  ever  lament  nor  yearn  for  what  they  have 
left. 

"  Yea,  but  they  are  thus  because  they 

are  creatures  without  reason." 

To  us,  then,  was  Keason  given  by  the  Gods 
for  our  misfortune  and  misery  ?  that  we  should 
be  wretched  and  sorrowful  forever?  Let  all 
men  be  immortal,  forsooth,  and  no  man  migrate 
to  another  land,  nor  let  us  ourselves  ever  migrate, 
but  remain  rooted  to  one  spot  like  plants;  and 
if  one  of  our  companions  go,  let  us  sit  down  and 
weep,  and  if  he  return,  dance  and  clap  hands 
like  children  ! 

3.  Shall  we  not  now  at  last  wean  ourselves,  and 
remember  what  we  heard  from  tlie  pliilosophers  ? 
if,  indeed,  we  did  not  listen  to  them  as  a  wizard's 
incantation.  For  tliey  said  tliat  the  universe  is 
one  Polity,  and  one  is  the  substance  out  of  which 
it  is  made,  and  there  must,  of  necessity,  be  a 
certain  cycle,  and  some  things  must  give  place 
to  others,  some  dissolving  away,  and  others  com- 
ing into  being,  some  abiding  in  one  place,  and 
others  being  in  motion.  But  all  tilings  are  full 
of  love,  first  of  tlie  Gods,  then  of  men,  that  are 
by  nature  made  to  have  affection  towards  each 
otlier;  and  it  must  needs  be  that  some  dwell 
with  each  other,  and  some  are  separated,  rejoic- 
ing in  those  who  are  with  them,  and  not  dis- 
tressed for  those  who  go  away.  And  man,  they 
said,  is  magnanimous  by  nature,  and  contemneth 
all  things  beyond  the  Will ;  and  hath  also  this 


136 


EPICTETUS. 


TIME  AND  CHANGE. 


1B7 


quality,  not  to  be  rooted  to  one  spot,  nor  grown 
into  tiie  earth,  bnt  able  to  go  from  place  to  place, 
sometimes  urged  by  divers  needs,  sometimes  for 
tlie  sake  of  what  he  sliall  see. 

4.  And  such  was  the  case  with  Ulysses : — 

**  The  cities  of  many  peoples  and  minds  of  men  he  knew." 

—Od.  i.  8. 

And  yet   earlier  with   Hercules,   who   went 
about  the  whole  earth — 

**  An  disorders  of  men  and  orderly  rule  to  see," 

—Od,  xvii.  487. 

casting  out  and  purging  the  one,  and  bringing  in 
tlie  other  in  its  place.  And  how  many  friends, 
think  you,  he  had  in  Thebes?  how  many  in 
Argos?  how  many  in  Athens?  and  how  many 
did  he  gain  in  his*^  journeyings?  And  he  took  a 
wife,  too,  when  it  seemed  to  him  due  time,  and 
begat  children,  and  left  them  behind  him,  not 
with  lamentations  or  regrets,  nor  leaving  them 
as  orphans;  for  he  knew  that  no  man  is  an 
orphan,  but  that  there  is  an  Eternal  Father  who 
careth  continually  for  all.  For  not  of  report 
alone  had  he  heard  that  Zeus  is  the  Father  of 
men,  whom  also  he  thought  to  be  his  own  father, 
and  called  him  so,  and  all  that  he  did,  he  did 
looking  unto  him.  And  thus  it  was  that  he  was 
able  to  live  happily  in  every  place. 

5.  For  never  can  happiness  and  the  longing 
for  what  is  not  exist  together.  For  Happiness 
must  have  all  its  will.  It  is  hke  unto  one  that 
hath  eaten  and  is  tilled ;  thirst  will  not  sort  with 
it,  nor  hunger.  But  Ulysses  longed  for  his 
wife^  and  lamented  as  he  sat  on  the  rock}  And 
do  you,  then,  follow  Homer  and  his  stories  in 
every  thing?  Or  if  he  did  in  trnth  lament, 
what  else  was  he  than  an  unfortunate  man? 
And  what  good  man  is  unfortunate?  Verily, 
the  Whole  is  ill-governed  if  Zeus  taketh  no  care 
of  his  own  citizens,  that  they  like  himself  may 


1)0  happy ;  but  these  things  it  is  not  lawful  nor 
pious  even  to  think  of.  But  Ulysses,  if  indeed 
he  lamented  and  complained,  was  not  a  good 
man.  For  what  good  man  is  there  that  knoweth 
not  who  he  is  ?  and  who  knowetli  this  who  for- 
gets that  things  which  come  into  existence  also 
perish,  and  that  no  two  human  beings  dwell  to- 
gether for  ever  ?  To  aim,  then,  at  things  which 
are  impossible  is  a  contemptible  and  foolish 
thing ;  it  is  the  part  of  a  stranger  and  alien  in 
God's  world  who  tights  against  God  in  the  one 
way  he  can — by  his  own  opinions. 

6.  But  my  mother  laments  if  shs  sees  me  not. 
And   wherefore  hath  she   never  learned   these 
teachings  ?    Yet,  I  say  not  that  it  is  no  concern  of 
ours  to  prevent  her  grieving ;  but  that  we  should 
not  absolutely,   and   without   exception,  desire 
what  is  not  our  own.     And  the  grief  of  another 
is  another's,  and  my  grief  is  mine  own.     I  will, 
therefore,  absolutely  end  mine  own  grief,  for  tliis 
I  can  ;  and  that  of  another  according  to  my  means, 
but  this  I  will  not  attempt  absolutely.    For  other- 
wise I  shall  be  tighting  with  God.  I  shall  be  op- 
posing and  resisting  him  in  the  government  of  the 
Wiiole ;  and  of  this  strife  against  God,  this  obstin- 
ac}^,  not  only  my  children's  children,  but  I  myself, 
too,  shall  pay  the  penalty  by  day  and  night ;  for 
I  shall  leap  from  my  bed  at  visions  of  the  night, 
confounded,  trembling  at  every  news,  having  my 
peace  at  the  mercy  of  letters  of  other  persons.   A 
messenger  hath  come  from  Home  ;  God  grant  it 
he  no  evil.     But  what  evil  can  come  upon   thee 
there,  where  thou  art  not  ?     There  is  a  message 
from  Greece  ;  God  grant  it  he  no  evil.    And  tlius 
to  thee  every  place  may  be  a  source  of  misfor- 
tune.    Is  it  not  enough  for  thee  to  be  unfortu- 
nate where  thou  art,  and  not  also  across  the  sea, 
and  by  writings?     Is  this  the  security  of  thine 
aifairs?     But  what  if  my  friends  which  are 
ahroad  die  there?     \Vliat  else  than  that  crea- 


s 


138 


EPICTETUS. 


tures  destined  to  die  have  died  ?  And  how  dost 
thou  desire  to  live  to  old  age,  and  never  to  see 
the  death  of  any  whom  thou  lovest  ?  Knowest 
thou  not  that  in  a  great  length  of  time  manj^ 
and  various  tilings  must  chance;  that  a  fever 
shall  overthrow  one,  and  a  robber  another,  and  a 
tyrant  another?  Such  is  our  environment,  such 
our  companions;  cold  and  heat,  and  improper 
ways  of  living,  and  journeyings,  and  voyagings, 
and  winds,  and  various  circumstances  witl  des- 
troy one  man,  and  exile  another,  and  cast  another 
into  an  embassy,  and  another  into  a  campaign. 
Sit  down,  then,  terrified  at  all  these  things; 
grieve  and  fail,  and  be  unfortnnate ;  depend  on 
others,  and  that  not  on  one  or  two,  but  myriads 
upon  myriads. 

7.  Is  this  what  you  heard,  is  this  what  you 
learned  from  the  philosophers?  Know  you  not 
that  our  business  here  is  a  warfare?  and  one 
must  watch,  and  one  go  out  as  a  spy,  and  one 
must  fight?  All  cannot  be  the  same  thing,  nor 
would  it  be  better  if  they  were.  But  you  neg- 
lect to  do  the  bidding  of  the  commander,  aird 
complain  when  he  hath  laid  somewhat  rougher 
than  common  upon  you ;  and  you  mark  not 
what,  so  far  as  in  you  lies,  you  are  making  the 
army  to  become,  so  that  if  all  copy  you,  none 
will  dig  a  trench,  none  will  cast  up  a  rampart, 
none  will  watch,  none  will  run  any  risk,  but 
each  will  appear  worthless  for  warfare.  Again, 
in  a  ship,  if  you  go  for  a  sailor,  take  up  one 
place,  and  never  budge  from  it ;  and  if  you  are 
wanted  to  go  aloft,  refuse;  or  to  run  upon  the 
prow,  refuse;  and  what  captain  will  have  pa- 
tience with  you  ?  Will  he  not  cast  you  out  like 
some  useless  thing,  nothing  else  than  a  hindrance 
and  bad  example  to  the  other  sailors  ? 

8.  And  thus  here  also:  the  life  of  every  man 
is  a  sort  of  warfare,  and  a  long  one,  and  full  of 
divers  chances.     And  it  behove th  a  man  to  play 


TIME  AND  CHANGE, 


189 


a  soldier's  part,  and  do  all  at  the  nod  of  his  com- 
mander; yea,  and  if  it  be  possible,  to  divine 
what  he  intendeth.  For  that  commander  is  not 
such  a  one  as  this,  neither  in  power  nor  in  exal- 
tation of  character.  You  are  set  in  a  great 
office,  and  in  no  mean  place,  but  are  a  Senator 
for  ever.  Know  you  not  that  such  a  one  can 
attend  but  little  to  his  household,  but  he  must  be 
oftentimes  abroad,  ruling  or  being  ruled,  or  ful- 
filling some  office,  or  serving  in  the  field,  or  judg- 
ing? And  will  you,  then,  desire  to  be  fixed  and 
rooted  like  a  plant  in  the  same  place  ?  I^^or  it  is 
pleasant  Who  denies  it  ?  But  so  is  a  dainty 
pleasant,  and  a  fair  woman  is  pleasant.  How 
otherwise  are  those  wont  to  speak  who  make 
pleasure  their  end  ?  See  you  not  what  kind  of 
men  they  are  whose  words  you  utter?  They 
are  the  words  of  Epicureans  and  profligates. 
And  doing  the  works  of  these  men,  and  holding 
their  doctrines,  wilt  thou  speak  to  us  with  the 
speech  of  Zeno  and  Socrates  ? 

9.  Will  you  not  fling  away  from  you  as  far  as 
you  can  tliese  alien  sentiments  wherewith  you 
adorn  yourself,  which  beseem  you  not  at  all  ? 
What  other  desire  have  such  men  than  to  sleep 
their  fill  unhindered,  and  when  they  have  risen, 
to  yawn  for  languor,  and  wash  their  face,  and 
write  and  read  whatever  pleaseth  them ;  then 
have  some  trivial  talk,  and  be  praised  by  their 
friends,  whatever  they  say;  then  go  forth  to 
walk  about,  and  having  done  this  a  little,  go  to 
the  baths ;  then  eat ;  then  retire  to  rest — such  a 
rest  as  is  the  wont  of  such  men,  and  why  need 
we  say  what,  for  it  is  easily  guessed  ?  Come, 
tell  me,  then,  thine  own  way  of  life,  such  as 
thou  desirest,  O  thou  votary  of  the  truth,  and  of 
Socrates  and  Diogenes !  What  wilt  thou  do  in 
Athens?  these  very  things,  or  others?  Why, 
then,  dost  declare  thyself  a  Stoic?  Are  not 
they  sorely   punished  which  falsely  pretend  to 


140 


EPICTETUS. 


be  Roman  citizens ;  and  should  those  go  free 
who  falsely  pretend  to  so  great  and  reverend  a 
calling  and  name?  or  let  this  indeed  be  impossi- 
ble; but  this  is  the  law,  divine  and  mighty,  and 
not  to  be  escaped,  that  layetli  the  greatest 
punishments  on  the  greatest  sinners.  For  what 
saith  this  law?  He  who  pretendeth  to  things 
that  are  not  his  own,  let  him  be  a  cheat  and 
braggart;  he  that  is  disobedient  to  the  divine 
government,  let  him  be  an  abject,  a  slave,  let 
him  grieve  and  envy  and  pity  '^ — in  a  word,  let 
him  be  misfortunate,  and  mourn. 

10.  ''  And  now  will  you  have  me  attend 

upon  such  a  one,  and  hang  about  his  door?" 

If  Reason  demand  it,  for  the  sake  of  country, 
of  kinsman,  of  mankind,  wherefore  shouldst 
thou  not  go?  Thou  art  not  ashamed  to  go  to 
the  doors  of  a  cobbler  when  thou  art  in  want  of 
shoes,  nor  to  those  of  a  gardener  for  lettuces ; 
and  why  to  those  of  a  rich  man  when  thou  art 
in  need  of  some  like  thing? 

"  Yea,  but  I  have  no  awe  of  the  cobbler.'' 

Then  have  none  of  the  rich. 

"  Nor  will  I  flatter  the  gardener." 

And  do  not  flatter  the  rich. 

"  How,  then,  shall  I  gain  what  I  want?" 

Did  I  say  to  thee,  Go^for  the  sake  of  gaining 
it ;  or  did  I  not  only  say,  Go^  that  thou  mayest 
do  what  it  heseems  thee  to  do, 

"  And  why,  then,  should  I  yet  go?" 

That  thou  mayest  have  gone ;  that  thou  mayest 
liave  played  the  part  of  a  citizen,  of  a  brother,  of 
a  friend.  And,  for  the  rest,  remember  that  the 
shoemaker,  the  vegetable-seller,  to  whom  thou 
didst  go,  hath  nothing  great  or  exalted  to  give, 
even  though  he  sell  it  dear.  Thy  aim  was  let- 
tuces ;  they  are  worth  an  obol,  they  are  not 
worth  a  talent.  And  so  it  is  here.  Is  the  mat- 
ter worth  going  to  the  rich  man's  door  for  ?  So  be 
it;  I  will  go.      Is  it  worth  speaking  to  him  about  ? 


TIME  AND  CHANGE. 


141 


So  be  it;  I  will  speak.  But  must  I  also  kiss  his 
hand,  and  fawn  upon  him  with  praise?  Out 
upon  it !  that  is  a  talent's  worth.  It  is  no  profit 
to  me,  nor  to  the  State,  nor  to  my  friends,  that 
they  should  lose  a  good  citizen  and  friend. 

11.  "  How,  then,  shall  I  become  of  an 

affectionate  disposition  ? " 

In  having  a  generous  and  happy  one.  For 
Eeason  doth  never  decree  that  a  man  must  be 
abject,  or  lament,  or  depend  on  another,  or  blame 
God  or  njan.  And  thus  be  thou  affectionate,  as 
one  who  will  keep  his  faith.  But  if  through 
this  affection,  or  what  happens  to  be  so  called 
by  thee,  thou  art  like  to  prove  a  niiserable  slave, 
then  it  shall  not  profit  thee  to  be  affectionate. 
And  what  hinders  us  to  love  as  though  we  loved 
a  mortal,  or  one  who  may  depart  to  other  lands? 
Did  Socrates  not  love  liis  children  ?  Yea,  but 
as  a  free  man  ;  as  one  who  remembered  that  he 
must  flrst  love  the  Gods.  And,  therefore,  he 
never  did  transgress  anything  that  it  becomes  a 
good  man  to  observe,  neither  in  his  defence, 
nor  in  fixing  his  punishment,  nor  before  time 
when  he  was  of  the  Council,  nor  when  he  was 
serving  in  the  field.  But  we  are  well  sup- 
plied with  every  excuse  for  baseness;  some 
through  children,  some  through  mothers,  some 
through  brothers.  But  it  behoveth  no  man  to 
be  unhappy  through  any  person,  but  happy 
through  all,  and  most  of  all  through  God,  which 
hath  framed  us  to  that  end. 

12.  And,  for  the  rest,  in  all  things  which  are 
delightful  to  thee,  set  before  thyself  the  appear- 
ances that  oppose  them.  What  harm  is  it,  while 
kissing  thy  child  to  whisper.  To-morrow  thou 
shalt  die'  and  likewise  with  thy  friend.  To- 
morrow thou  shalt  depart^  either  thou  or  ly  and 
we  shall  see-  each  oilier  no  more  f 

"  But  these  are  words  of  ill-omen." 

And   so   are  some  incantations,  but    in   that 


142 


EPICTETUS, 


tliev  are  useful  I  regard  not  this ;  only  let  them 
be  of  use.  But  dost  thou  call  anything  of  ill- 
omen,  save  only  that  which  betokeneth  some 
evil?  Cowardice  is  a  word  of  ill-omen,  and 
baseness  and  grief  and  mourning  and  shameless- 
ness,  tliese  words  are  of  ill-omen.  And  not  even 
tliem  must  we  dread  to  speak,  if  so  we  may  de- 
fend ourselves  against  the  things.  But  wilt 
tliou  say  that  any  word  is  of  ill-omen  that  be- 
tokeneth some  natural  thing  ?  Say  that  it  is  of 
ill-omen  to  speak  of  the  reaping  of  ears  of  corn, 
for  it  betokeneth  the  destruction  of  the  ears— 
but  not  of  the  universe.  Say  that  the  falling  of 
the  leaves  is  of  ill-omen,  and  the  dried  lig  com- 
ing  in  the  place  of  the  green,  and  raisins  in  the 
place  of  grapes.  For  all  these  things  are  changes 
from  the  former  estate  to  another ;  no  destruc- 
tion, but  a  certain  appointed  order  and  disposi- 
tion. Here  is  parting  for  foreign  lands,  and  a 
little  change.  Here  is  death— a  greater  change, 
not  from  that  which  now  is  to  that  which  is  not, 
but  to  that  which  is  not  now. 


CHAPTEPw  IX 

ON   SOLimDE. 

1.  SoLmiDE  is  the  state  of  one  who  is  helpless. 
For  he  who  is  alone  is  not  therefore  solitary ;  even 
as  he  who  is  in  a  great  company  is  not  therefore 
not  solitary.  When,  therefore,  we  have  lost  a 
brother  or  a  son  or  a  friend  on  whom  we  were 
wont  to  rest,  we  say  that  we  are  left  solitary, 
and  oftentimes  we  say  it  in  Rome,  with  such  a 
crowd  meeting  us  and  so  many  dwelling  about 
us,  and,  it  may  be,  having  a  multitude  of  slaves. 
For  the  solitary  man,  in  his  conception,  meaneth 
to  be  thought  helpless,  and  laid  open  to  those 
who  wish  him  harm.  Therefore  when  we  are 
on  a  journey  we  then,  above  all,  say  that  we  are 


CN  SOLITUDE. 


143 


solitary  when  we  are  fallen  among  thieves ;  for 
that  which  taketh  away  solitude  is  Hot  the  sight 
of  a  man,  but  of  a  faithful  and  i)ious  and  service- 
able man.     For  if  to  be  solitary  it  sufficeth  to  be 
alone,  then  say  that  Zeus  is  solitary  in  the  con- 
flagration,|  and  bewails  himself.      Woe  is  me! 
I  have  neither  Hera  nor  Athene  nor  Apollo^  nor 
in  short,  eitlier  brotlier  or  son  or  descendant  or 
kinsman.     And  so  some  say  he  doth  when  alone 
in  the  conflagration.     For  they  comprehend  not 
the  life  of  a  man  who  is  alone,  setting  out  from 
a  certain  natural  principle,  that  we  are  by  nature 
social,   and   inclined   to    love   each   other,   and 
pleased   to   be   in  the  company  of   other   men. 
But  none  the  less  is  it  needfurthat  one  iind  the 
means  to  this  also,  to  be  able  to  suttice  to  him- 
self, and  to  be  his  own  companion.     For  as  Zeus 
is  his  own  companion,  and  is  content  with  him- 
self, and  considereth  his  own  government,  what 
it  is,  and  is  occupied  in  designs  worthy  of  him- 
self;  thus  should  we  be  able  to  converse  with 
ourselves,  and  feel  no  need  of  others,  nor  want 
means  to  pass    the   time;    but  to   observe   the 
divine  government,  and  the  relation  of  ourselves 
with  other  things;  to   consider  how  we   stood 
formerly  towards  the  events  that  befall  us,  and 
how  we  stand  now ;  what  things  they  are  that 
still  afflict  us;  how  these,  too,  may  be  healed, 
how  removed ;  and  if  aught  should  need  perfect- 
ing, to  perfect  it  according  to  the  reason  of  the 
case. 

2.  Ye  see  now,  how  that  Caesar  seemeth  to 
have  given  us  a  great  peace ;  how  there  are  no 
longer  wars  nor  battles  nor  bands  of  robbers  nor 
of  pirates,  but  a  man  may  travel  at  every  season, 
and  sail  from  east  to  west.  But  can  he  give  us 
peace  from  fever  ?  or  from  shipwreck  ?  or  from 
lire  ?  or  earthquake  ?  or  lightning?  aye,  or  from 
love  ?  He  cannot  Or  from  grief  ?  He  cannot 
Or  from  envy  ?    Ue  cannot    Briefly,  then,  he 


144 


EPICTETUS. 


AGAmST  THE  CONTENTIOUS. 


145 


cannot  secure  us  from  any  of  such  things.     But 
the  word  of  the  philosopliers  doth  promise  us 
peace  even  from  these  things.     And  what  saith 
it?      Tf  y^    y^if^l^    hearken  unto    me^    0   men^ 
wheresoever  ye  he^  whatsoever  ye  do^  ye  shall  not 
grieve^  ye  shall  not  he  wroth^  ye  shall  not  he  coin- 
celled  w  hindered^  hut  ye  shall  live  untrouUed 
and  free  from  eve7*y  ill.     Whosoever  hath  this 
peace,  which  Caesar  never  proclaimed  (for  how 
could   he   proclaim   it  ?),  but   whicli    God^  pro- 
claimed through  his  word,  shall  he  not  suffice  to 
liimsclf  when  he  may  be  alone  ?  for  he  beholdeth 
and  considereth,  J^ow  can  no  evil  happen  to  me; 
for  me  there  is  no  rohher^  7io  earthquake ;  all 
things  are  fxdl  of  peace,  f\dl  of  calmj  for  me 
no  way^  no  city,  no  assemUy,  no  neighhor,  no 
associate  hath  any  hurt.     He  is  supplied  by  one, 
whose  part  that  is,  with  food,  by  another,  with 
raiment,  by  another  with  senses,  by  another  with 
natural  conceptions.     And  when,  it  may  be,  that 
the  necessary  things  are  no  longer  supplied,  that 
is  the  signaf  for  retreat :  the  door  is  opened,  and 
God  saith  to  thee.  Depart. 

"Whither?" 

To  nothing  dreadful,  but  to  the  place  from 
whence  thou  camest— to  things  friendly  and 
akin  to  thee,  to  the  elements  of  Being.  What- 
ever in  thee  was  tire  shall  go  to  tire;  of  earth, 
to  earth ;  of  air,  to  air ;  of  water,  to  water ;  *-*  no 
Hades,  nor  Acheron,  nor  Coeytus,  nor  Plilege- 
thon,  but  all  things  are  full  of  Gods  and  Powers.^ 
Whoso  hath  these  things  to  think  on,  and  seetli 
the  sun  and  the  moon  and  the  stars,  and  rejoiceth 
in  the  earth  and  the  sea,  he  is  no  more  solitary 
than  he  is  helpless. 

'^  AVhat,  then,  if  one  come  and  find  me 

alone  and  slay  me  ? " 

Fool !  not  thee,  but  thy  wretched  body. 

3.  Thou  art  a  little  soul  bearing  up  a  corpse. 

4.  What  solitude,  then,  is  there  any  longer, 


what  lack?  Why  do  we  make  ourselves  worse 
tlian  children,  which,  when  they  are  left  alone, 
what  do  they? — they  take  shells  and  sand  and 
build  up  somewhat,  and  then  throw  it  down,  and 
again  build  up  something  else,  and  so  they  never 
lack  pastime.  And  shall  I,  if  ye  sail  away  from 
me,  sit  down  and  weep  for  that  I  am  left  alone 
and  solitary  ?  Shall  I  have  no  shells  nor  sand  ? 
But  children  do  these  things  through  their  folly, 
and  we  through  our  wisdom  are  made  unhappy. 


CHAPTER  X. 

AGAINST  THE   CONTENTIOUS   AND   REYENGEFUL. 

1.  To  suppose  that  we  shall  become  contempt- 
ible in  the  eyes  of  others  unless  in  some  way  we 
inflict  an  injury  on  those  who  first  showed  liostil 
ity  to  us,  is  the  character  of  most  ignoble  and 
thoughtless  men.  For  thus  we  say,  that  a  man 
is  to  be  despised  according  to  his  inability  to  do 
hurt ;  but  much  rather  is  he  to  be  despised  ac- 
cording to  his  inability  to  do  good. 

2.  The  wise  and  good  man  neither  strives  with 
any  himself,  nor  in  the  measure  of  his  power 
will  he  allow  another  to  strive.  And  in  this, 
as  in  all  other  things,  the  life  of  Socrates  is  set 
before  us  as  an  example :  who  did  not  only  him- 
self fly  all  contention,  but  also  forbade  it  to 
others.  See  in  Xenophon's  Symposium  how 
many  quarrels  he  ended;  and,  again,  how  he 
bore  with  Thrasymachus,  and  how  with  Polus 
and  with  Callicles ;  and  how  he  endured  his  wife, 
and  how  his  son,  which  opposed  him  with  sophis- 
tical arguments.  For  he  remembered  very  well 
that  no  man  can  command  the  ruling  faculty  of 
another. 

3.  How  then,  is  there  yet  anj^  place  for  con- 
tention in  one  so  minded  ?  For  wliat  event  can 
amaze  him  ?  what  appear  strange  to  liim  ?   Doth 


146 


EPICTETUS. 


he  not  look  for  even  worse  and  more  grievous 
thin<rs  at  the  hands  of  evil  men  than  do  befall 
himi  Doth  he  not  count  everything  for  gain 
which  is  short  of  the  extreme  of  injury  ?  Hath 
such  a  ane  reviled  thee?  Much  thanks  to  hnn 
that  he  did  not  strike  thee.  But  he  did  also 
strike  me.  Much  thanks  that  he  did  not  wound 
thee.  Bid  he  did  also  wound  7ne.  Much 
thanks  that  he  did  not  slay  thee.  For  when  did 
he  learn,  or  from  whom,  that  he  was  a  tame 
animal,  and  affectionate  to  others,  and  that  to 
the  wrongdoer  the  wrongdoing  itself  is  a  heavy 
injury?  For  since  he  hath  not  learned  these 
things,  nor  believes  them,  wherefore  should  he 
not  follow  that  which  appears  to  be  his  advaii- 
tac/e  ^  Thy  nei^ibor  hath  flung  stones  ?  Hast 
thou,  then,  sinned  in  aught?  But  he  has  broken 
things  in  the  house  ?  And  art  thou  a  household 
vessel  ?     Nay— but  a  Will. 

4.  Wliat,  then,  hath  been  given  thee  for  this 
occasion  ?  To  a  wolf  it  were  given  to  bite— to 
fling  more  stones.  But  if  thou  seek  what  is  be- 
coming for  a  man,  look  into  thy  stores,  see  what 
faculties  thou  hast  come  here  furnished  withal. 
Hast  thou  the  nature  of  a  wild  beast  ?  the  tem- 
per of  revenge  ? 

5.  When  is  a  horse  in  wretched  case  ?  When 
he  is  bereaved  of  his  natural  faculties :  not  when 
he  cannot  crow,  but  when  he  cannot  run.  When 
is  a  dog  ?  Not  when  he  cannot  fly,  but  when 
lie  cannot  track.  Is  not  a  man,  then,  also  thus 
wretched,  not  when  he  cannot  strangle  lions  or 
embrace  statues  ^— for  to  this  he  came  endowed 
with  no  faculties  by  Nature— but  when  he  hath 
lost  his  honesty,  his  faithfulness?  Surely,  we 
should  meet  together  and  lament  over  such  a 
man ;  so  great  are  the  evils  into  which  he  hath 
fallen.  Not,  indeed,  that  we  should  lament  for 
his  birth,  or  for  his  death,  but  in  that  while  yet 
living  he  hath  suffered  the  loss  of  his  own  true 


AGAINST  THE  CONTENTIOUS.  W 

possessions.     I  speak  not  of  his  paternal  inherit- 
ance, not  of  his  land,  or  his  house,  or  his  inn  or 
his  slaves  (for  not  one  of  these  things  is  the 
true  possession  of  a  man,  but  all  are  alien,  servile 
subject,  given  now  to  some,  now  to  others  by 
those  that  can  command  them) ;  but  of  his  human 
qualities,  the  stamps  of  his  spirit  wherewith  he 
came  into  the  world.     Even  such  we  seek  for 
also  on  coins,  and  if  we  find  them  we  approve  the 
coins ;  if  not,  we  cast  them  away.     What  is  the 
^tamp  of  this  sestertius  ?     The  stamp  of  Trajan 
Then  give  it  me.     The  stamj)  of  Nero?    Flin^ 
It  away— it  will  not  pass,  it  is  bad.     And  so  here 
too.     What  IS  the  stamp  of  his  mind?     He  is 
gentle,  social,   forbearinfij,   affectionate.     Come 
then,  I  receive  hiu),  I  admit  hinj  to  citizensliip 
1  receive  liim  as  a  neighbor,  a  fellow-traveller! 
bee  to  It  only  that  he  have  not  Nero's  stamp.   Is 
he  wrathful,   revengeful,   complaining?      Doth 
he,  when  it  may  seem  good  to  him,  break  the 
heads  of  all  who  stand  in  his  way  ?     Wliy,  then 
did'st  thou  say  he  was  a  man  ?     Shall  everything 
be  judged  by  the  bare  form  ?     If  so,  then  say 
that  a  wax  apple  is  a  real  apple,  and  that  it  has 
the  smell  and  taste  of  an  apple.     But  the  out- 
ward shape  doth  not  suffice,  nor  are  eyes  and 
nose  enough  to  make  a  man,  but  he  is  a  man 
only  if  lie  have  a  man's  mind.     Here  is  one  that 
will  not  hear  reason,  that  will  not  submit  when 
he  is  confuted — he  is  an  ass.     In  another,  rever- 
ence hath  died— he  is  worthless,  anything  rather 
than  a  man.     This  one  seeketh  whom  he  may 
meet  and  kick  or  bite— so  that  he  is  not  even  a 
sheep  or  an  ass,  but  some  kind  of  savage  beast. 

6.  But  this  is  the  nature  of  every  creature,  to 
pursue  the  Good  and  fly  the  Evil ;  and  to  hold 
every  man  an  enemy  and  a  plotter  for  our  woe, 
were  it  even  a  brother,  or  son,  or  father,  who 
takes  away  from  us  the  one,  or  brings  us  into 
the  other.    For  nothing  is  nearer  or  dearer  to  ue 


148 


EPICTETUS, 


than  the  Good.  It  remains,  therefore,  if  outward 
things  be  good  and  evil,  that  a  father  is  no  long- 
er the  friend  of  his  sons,  nor  the  brother  of  his 
brother,  but  every  place  is  full  of  enemies  and 
plotters  and  slanderers.  Bat  if  the  only  Good 
is  that  the  Will  should  be  as  it  ought  to  be,  and 
the  only  Evil  as  it  ought  not,  where  is  there 
then  any  place  for  strife,  for  reviling?  For 
about  wliat  things  shall  we  strive  ?  about  those 
that  are  nothhig  to  us?  and  with  whom?  witli 
the  ignorant,  the  unhappy,  with  men  who  are 
deceived  concerning  the  greatest  things  ? 

7.  Remembering  these  thing,  Socrates  managed 
his  own  household,  enduring  a  most  shrewish 
wife  and  an  undutiful  son.  ^For  these  doctrines 
make  love  in  a  household,  and  concord  in  a  State, 
peace  among  nations,  and  gratitude  towards 
God,  w^'th  boldness  in  every  place,  as  of  one  who 
hath  to  do  with  things  alien  to  him,  and  of  no 
estimation.  And  we  are  the  men  to  write  and 
read  these  things,  and  to  applaud  them  when 
they  are  delivered  to  us,  but  to  the  belief  of 
them  we  have  not  even  come  near.  And  there- 
fore that  saying  concerning  the  Lacedaemonians, 
**  Lions  at  home,  but  in  Ephesus  foxes,"  » 

will  fit  US  too— lions  in  the  school  and  foxes 
without. 


END  OF  BOOK  in. 


BOOK  IV. 
CHAPTER  I. 

OF  EELIGION. 

1.  Of  religion  towards  the  Gods,  know  that 
the  chief  element  is  to  have  riirht  opinions  con- 
cernnig  them,  as  existing  and  governing  the 
whole  in  fair  order  and  justice;  and  then  to  set 
tlijself  to  obey  them,  and  to  yield  to  them  in  each 
event,  and  submit  to  it  willingly,  as  accomplished 
under  the  highest  counsels."  For  so  siialt  thou 
never  blame  the  Gods,  nor  accuse  them,  as  beine 
neglectful  of  thee. 

2.  But  this  may  come  to  pass  in  no  other  way 
than  by  placing  Good  and  Evil  in  tiie  things 
that  are  in  our  own  power,  and  withdrawing 
them  from  those  that  are  not ;  for  if  thou  take 
any  of  these  things  to  be  good  or  evil,  then  when 
thou  shalt  miss  thy  desire,  or  fall  into  what  thou 
desirest  not,  it  is  altogether  necessary  that  thou 
blame  and  hate  those  who  caused  thee  to  do  so. 

3.  For  every  living  thing  was  so  framed  by 
JNature  as  to  flee  and  turn  from  things,  and  the 
causes  of  things,  that  appear  hurtful,  and  to 
tollow  and  admire  things,  and  the  causes  of 
things,  that  appear  serviceable.  For  it  is  impos- 
sible that  one  who  thinketh  himself  harmed 
should  delight  in  what  seemeth  to  harm  him,  even 
as  he  cannot  delight  in  the  very  harm  itself. 

^  4.  And  thus  it  comes  that  a  father  is  reviled 
by  Ins  son  when  he  will  not  give  him  of  the 
things  that  appear  to  be  good.  And  this  it  was 
that  set  Polyneices  and  Eteocles  at  war  with 
each  other— the  opnion,  namely,  that  royalty  is 


150 


EPICTETUS, 


OF  PROVIDENCE. 


151 


a  good.  And  througli  this  the  Gods  are  railed 
on  by  the  husbandman  and  the  sailor,  by  the 
merchant,  and  men  who  lose  their  wives  or  chil- 
dren. For  where  advantage  is,  there  also  is  re- 
licrion.  Thus  he  who  is  careful  to  pursue  and 
avoid  as  he  ought,  is  careful  at  the  same  time,  of 

religion. 

5.  But  it  is  fitting  also  that  every  man  should 
pour  libations  and  ofiEer  sacrifices  and  first-fruits 
after  the  customs  of  his  fathers,  purely,  and  not 
languidly  nor  negligently,  nor,  indeed,  scantily, 
nor  yet  beyond  his  means. 


CHAPTER  II. 

OF   PROVIDENCE. 

1.  Concerning  the  Gods,  there  are  some  who 
say  that  a  divine  being  does  not  exist ;  and  others, 
that  it  exists  indeed,  l)ut  is  idle  and  uncaring,  and 
hath  no  forethought  for  anytliing ;  and  a  tliird 
class  say  that  there  is  such  a  Being,  and  he  taketh 
forethought  also,  but  only  in  respect  of  great 
and  heavenlv  things,  but  of  nothing  that  is  on 
the  earth;  and  a  fourth  class,  that  he  taketli 
thouo-ht  both  of  things  in  lieaven  and  earth,  but 
onlyln  general,  and  not  of  each  thing  severally. 
And  there  is  a  fifth  class,  whereof  are  Od};sseus 
and  Socrates,  who  say,  ]!f^or  can  I  move  without 

thy  knowledge}  ,        .     .  . 

2  Before  all  things,  then,  it  is  necessary  to 
investigate  each  of  these  opinions,  whether  it  be 
iustly  aflirmed  or  no.  For  if  tliere  be  no  Gods, 
how  can  the  following  of  the  Gods  be  an  end  i 
And  if  there  are  Gods,  but  such  as  take  no 
care  for  anything,  then  also  how  can  the  follow- 
iuo'  of  them  be  truly  an  end  ?  And  how,  again, 
if  ^he  Gods  both  exist  and  take  care  for  things, 
yet  if  there  be  no  communication  from  them  to 
men  yea,  by  Zeus,  and  even  to  mine  own  self  i 


The  wise  and  good  man,  having  investigated  all . 
these  things,  will  submit  his  own  mind  to  Him 
that  governeth  the  Whole,  even  as  good  citizens 
to  the  laws  of  tlieir  State. 

3.  But  a  certain  man  liaving  inquired  how  one 
could  be  persuaded  tliat  every  one  of  his  actions 
is  observed  by  God,  Doth  it  not  appear  to  you, 
said  Epictetus,  that  all  things  are  united  in  One  ? 

"  It  dotli  so  appear." 

What  then?  Think  you  not  that  a  sympathy 
exists  between  heavenly  and  earthly  things? 

"  I  do  think  it.'" 

For  how  else  do  plants,  as  if  at  the  command 
of  God,  when  lie  bids  them,, flower  in  due  season  ? 
and  shoot  forth  when  he  bids  them  shoot,  and 
bear  fruit  when  he  bids  them  bear  ?  and  ripen 
when  he  bids  them  ripen  ?  and  again  they  drop 
their  fruit  when  he  bids  them  drop  it,  and  shed 
their  leaves  when  he  bids  them  shed  them  ?  and 
how  else  at  his  bidding  do  they  fold  themselves 
together,  remain  motionless  and  at  rest  ?  And 
how  else  at  the  waxing  and  waning  of  the  moon, 
and  the  approach  and  withdrawal  of  the  sun,  do 
we  behold  such  a  change  and  reversal  in  earthly 
things?  But  are  the  plants  and  our  bodies  so 
bound  up  in  the  whole,  and  have  sympathy  with 
it,  and  are  our  spirits  not  much  more  so  ?  And 
our  souls  being  thus  bound  up  and  in  touch  with 
God,  seeing,  indeed,  that  thej''  are  portions  and 
fragments  of  him,  shall  not  every  movement  of 
them,  inasmuch  as  it  is  something  inward  and 
akin  to  God,  be  perceived  by  him  ?  But  you  are 
able  to  meditate  upon  the  divine  government, 
and  upon  all  divine  and  all  human  affairs,  and  to 
be  affected  at  the  same  time  in  the  senses  and  in 
the  intellect  by  ten  thousand  things,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  assent  to  some  and  dissent  to  others, 
or  suspend  your  judgment ;  and  you  preserve  in 
your  mind  so  many  impressions  of  so  many  and 
various  things,  and  being  affected  by  them,  you 


152 


EPICTETUS. 


-strike  upon  ideas  similiar  to  earlier  impressionp, 
and  you  retain  many  different  arts,  and  memo- 
ries of  ten  thousand  things ;  and  shall  not  God 
have  the  power  to  overlook  all  things,  and  be 
present  with  all,  and  have  a  certain  communica- 
tion with  all?  But  is  the  sun  able  to  illuminate 
so  great  a  part  of  the  Ail,  and  to  leave  so  little 
without  light, — that  part,  namely,  which  is  filled 
with  the  shadow  of  the  earth — and  shall  He 
who  made  the  sun,  and  guideth  it  in  its  sphere  — 
a  small  part  of  Him  beside  the  AVhole — shall  He 
not  be  capable  of  perceiving  all  tilings? 

4.  But  T,  saith  the  man,  cannot  take  heed  of 
all  these  things  at  once.  And  who  said  you 
could  do  this?  that  you  had  equal  powers  with 
God  ?  But,  nevertheless.  He  hath  placed  at 
every  man's  side  a  Guardian,  the  genius  of  each 
man,'^  who  is  charged  to  watch  over  him,  a  genius 
that  cannot  sleep,  nor  be  deceived.  To  what 
greater  and  more  watchful  guardian  could  he 
iiave  connnitted  us  ?  So,  w^ien  ye  have  shut  the 
doors,  and  made  darkness  in  the  house,  remem- 
ber never  to  say  that  ye  are  alone ;  for  ye  are 
not  alone,  but  God  is  there,  and  your  genius  is 
there ;  and  what  need  have  these  of  light  to 
mark  what  ye  are  doing?  To  this  God  it  were 
fitting  also  that  ye  should  swear  an  oath,  as  sol- 
diers do  to  Caesar.  But  those  indeed  who  re- 
ceive pay  swear  to  prefer  the  safety  of  Caesar 
before  all  things :  but  ye,  receiving  so  many  and 
great  things,  will  ye  not  swear?  or  swearing, 
will  ye  not  abide  by  it?  And  what  shall  ye 
swear  ?  Never  to  disobey,  never  to  accuse,  never 
to  blame  aught  that  He  hath  given,  never  un- 
willingly to  do  or  suffer  any  necessary  thing.  Is 
this  oath  like  unto  that  other?  The  soldiers 
swear  to  esteem  no  other  man  before  Caesar ;  ye 
to  esteem  yourselves  above  all. 


OF  PROVIDENCE. 


153 


CHAPTER  III. 


OF    PROVIDENCE. 


1.  Marvel  not  if  the  other  animals  have  all 
things  that  are  needful  for  the  body  without 
preparation,  not  alone  food  and  drink,  but  sleep- 
ing places  also,  and  they  have  no  need  of  shoes, 
nor  bedding,  nor  raiment,  while  all  these  things 
must  needs  be  added  to  us.  For  these  creatures 
exist  not  for  themselves,  but  for  service  ;  it  were 
not  expedient  that  they  had  been  made  with 
need  of  such  additions.  For,  look  you,  what  a 
task  it  w^ere  for  us  to  take  thought,  not  for  our- 
selves alone,  but  also  for  the  sheep  and  the  asses, 
how  they  should  be  clad,  how  shod,  how  they 
should  eat,  how  they  should  drink  !  But  as  sol- 
diers are  ready  for  their  commands,  shod,  and 
clothed,  and  accoutred,  it  would  be  a  grievous 
thing  if  each  captain  of  a  thousand  must  go 
round  and  shoe  or  clothe  his  thousand ;  so  also 
liath  Nature  formed  the  animals  that  are  made 
for  service,  ready  equipped^  and  needing  no 
further  care.  And  thus  one  little  child  with  a 
rod  will  drive  the  sheep. 

2.  But  now  we,  neglecting  to  be  grateful,  for 
that  we  need  not  attend  to  the  animals  equally 
with  ourselves,  do  accuse  God  for  our  own  lack. 
And  yet,  by  Zeus  and  all  the  Gods,  there  is  no 
one  thing  in  the  fame  of  Nature  but  would  give, 
at  least  to  a  reverent  and  grateful  spirit,  enough 
for  the  perceiving  of  the  Providence  of  God. 
And  to  speak  of  no  great  things  now,  consider 
this  alone,  how  milk  is  produced  from  grass,  and 
cheese  from  milk,  and  wool  from  skins.  Who 
is  he  that  hath  made  these  things  or  plaimed 
them  ?  No  one.  sayest  thou  ?  O  monstrous  im- 
pudence  and  dulness! 


154 


EPICTETVS. 


GOD  IN  MAN. 


155 


3.  Well,  then,  let  tlie  large  works  of  Nature 
pass,  and  let  us  look  only  at  her  by-works.  Is 
there  aught  more  useless  than  the  hairs  on  the 
chin  ?  What  tlien  ?  hath  she  not  made  such  use 
even  of  these,  that  nothing  could  be  comelier  ? 
hath  she  not  by  them  distingnislied  male  from 
female  ?  Doth  not  the  nature  of  every  man  cry 
aloud  even  at  a  distance,  /  a7n  a  man^  thus  shalt 
thou  approach  me^  thus  speak  to  me.,  look  for 
nothing  else  /  lehold  the  tokens  !  And  again  in 
women,  as  Nature  hath  mingled  sometliing  of 
softness  in  the  voice,  so  she  hatli  taken  away  tlie 
hairs.  Nay^  will  you  say?  hut  every  creature 
should  have  been  left  undistinguished^  and  each 
of  us  should  proclaim^  ''  /  am  a  man. "  But 
how  beautiful  is  not  the  token,  and  becoming, 
and  reverend  ?  how  much  more  beautiful  than 
the  cock's  comb?  how  much  more  becoming 
than  the  lion's  mane  ?  Wherefore  it  behoveth 
us  to  preserve  God's  tokens,  nor  to  fling  them 
away,  nor  to  confound,  as  far  as  in  us  lies,  the 
things  that  distinguish  the  sexes. 

4.  Are  these  the  only  works  of  Providence  in 
us? — but  what  may  suffice  to  rightly  praise  and 
tell  them  ?  For  had  we  understanding  thereof, 
would  any  other  thing  better  beseem  us,  either 
in  company  or  alone,  than  to  hymn  the  Divine 
Being,  and  laud  Him  and  rehearse  His  gracious 
deeds  ?  Should  we  not,  as  we  dig  or  plough  or 
eat,  sing  this  hymn  to  God,  Great  is  God\who 
hath  given  its  such  instrujnents  whereby  we  shall 
till  the  earth :  great  is  God^  loho  hath  given  us 
handsy  and  swallowing.,  and  the  belly ;  who 
Qnaketh  us  to  grow  without  our  knowledge^  and 
to  breathe  while  we  sleep.  These  things  it  were 
fitting  that  every  man  should  sing,  and  to  chant 
the  greatest  and  divinest  hymns  for  this,  that  He 
hath  given  us  the  power  to  observe  and  con- 
sider His  works  and  a  Way  wherein  to  walk.^ 
What  then  ?  since  the  most  of  you  have  become 


blind,  should  there  not  be  one  to  fill  this  place, 
and  in  the  name  of  all  to  sing  this  hymn  to  God? 
For  what  else  can  I  do,  an  old  man  and  lame, 
than  sing  hymns  to  God  ?  If  I  were  a  nightin- 
gale I  would  do  after  the  nature  of  a  niffhtiiiirale  : 
if  a  swan,  after  that  of  a  swan.  But  now  I  am 
a  reasoning  creature,  and  it  behoves  me  to  sing 
the  praise  of  God :  this  is  my  task,  and  this  I 
do,  nor,  as  long  as  it  is  granted  me,  will  I  ever 
abandon  this  post.  And  you,  too,  I  summon  to 
join  me  in  the  same  song. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

GOD   IN  MAN. 

1.  God  is  beneficial.  But  the  Good  is  also 
beneficial.  It  is  likely,  then,  that  where  the  es- 
sence of  God  is,  there  also  should  be  the  essence 
of  the  Good.  And  what  is  the  essence  of  God  ? 
Flesh  ?  God  forbid.  A  property  in  land  ?  God 
forbid.  Fame?  God  forbid.  Mhid,  Intelli- 
gence, Right  Reason?  Even  so.  Here,  then, 
once  for  all,  seek  the  essence  of  the  Good.  For 
surely  you  will  in  no  wise  seek  it  in  a  plant  ? 
Nay.  Or  in  any  unreasoning  creature  ?  Nay. 
If,  then,  it  is  sought  in  a  reasoning  creature, 
wherefore  continue  to  seek  it  anywhere  else  than 
in  the  difference  between  reasoning  and  unrea- 
soning creatures  ? 

2.  The  plants  have  not  so  much  as  the  use 
of  appearances,  therefore  we  speak  not  of  the 
Good  in  their  regard.  The  Good,  then,  needs 
the  power  of  using  appearances.  And  this 
alone  ?  Nay ;  for  if  so,  say  then  that  Good  and 
Happiness  and  Unhappiness  are  with  the  lower 
animals  too.  But  this  you  will  not  say,  and  you 
are  right ;  for  though  they  possessed  the  use  of 
appearances  in  the  highest  degree,  yet  the  ob- 
serving and  considering  of  this  use  they  do  not 


156 


EPICTETUS. 


possess,  and  naturally  so,  for  they  exist  to  serve 
others,  nor  liave  any  supreme  object  in  them- 
selves.^ For  the  ass  was  not  made  for  ^y  su- 
pren^e  object  in  himself?  Nay,  but  he  was 
niade  able  to  bear,  because  we  liad  need  of  a 
back;  and,  by  Zeus,  we  had  need  moreover  tliat 
he  should  walk ;  wherefore  he  received  also  the 
power  to  use  appearances,  else  had  he  not  been 
able  to  walk.  And  thereupon  tlie  matter  stop- 
ped. For  had  he  also  received  the  observing  and 
considering  of  the  use  of  appearances,  it  is  clear 
that  in  reason  he  could  no  longer  have  been  sub- 
ject to  us,  nor  have  served  those  needs  of  ours, 
but  he  had  been  our  equal  and  our  like. 

3.  For  use  is  one  thing,  and  observation  and 
.study  is  another.     God  had  need  of  the  other 
aniinals  to  use  appearances,  but  of  us  to  observe 
and  study  appearances.     Wherefore  it  is  enough 
for  them  to  eat  and  drink,  and  rest  and  breed, 
and  do  w^hatever  else  each  of  them  performs,  but 
to  us,  to  w^hom  the  faculty  of  observing  and 
studying  hath  also  been  given,  these  things  are 
not  enough ;  but  unless  we  act  after  a  certain 
manner  and  ordinance,  and  conformably  to  the 
nature  and  constitution  of  man,  we  shall  never 
attain  the  end  of  our  being.     For  when  the  con- 
stitution is  different,  different  there  also  is  the 
task  and  the  end.     When,  therefore,  the  consti- 
tution  is  one   for   use  alone,  then  the  use,  of 
whatever  kind  it  be,  is  enough ;  but  where  there 
is  also  observing  and  studying  of  the  use,  then, 
unless  the  due  employment  of  this  faculty  be 
added,  the   end  shall  never  be  gained.     What 
then  ?     God  hath  constituted  every  other  animal, 
one  to  be  eaten,  another  to  serve  for  tilling  the 
land,  another  to  yield  cheese,  another  to  some 
kindred   use;  for  which   things   what   need   is 
there  of  the  observing  and  studying  of  appear- 
ances, and  the  ability  to  make  distinctions  in 
them?    But  man  he  hath  brouorht  in  to  be  a 


GOD  IN  MAN. 


167 


spectator  of  God  and  of  His  works,  and  not  a 
spectator  alone,  but  an  interpreter  of  them. 
Wherefore  it  is  shameful  for  a  man  to  begin  and 
to  end  where  creatures  do  that  are  without  Kea- 
son  ;  but  rather  should  he  begin  when  they  be- 
gin, and  end  where  Nature  ends  in  ourselves. 
But  she  ends  in  contemplation,  in  observing  and 
studying,  in  a  manner  of  life  that  is  in  harmony 
with  Nature.  See  to  it  then  that  ye  die  not 
without  having  been  spectators  of  these  things. 

4.  Seek,  then,  the  essence  of  the  Good  there, 
where  if  it  be  not,  thou  wilt  not  say  that  the 
Good  is  in  any  other  thing. 

5.  But  what  ?  are  not  those  creatures  also 
works  of  God  ?  Surely ;  yet  not  supreme  ob- 
jects, yet  not  parts  of  the  Gods.  But  thou  art  a 
supreme  object,  thou  art  a  piece  of  God,  thou 
hast  in  thee  something  that  is  a  portion  of  Him. 
Why,  then,  art  thou  ignorant  of  thy  high  ances- 
ti'v?  Whv  knowest  thou  not  whence  thou 
camest  ?  Wilt  thou  not  remember,  in  thine  eat- 
ing, who  it  is  that  eats,  and  whom  thou  dost 
nourish  ?  in  cohabiting,  who  it  is  that  cohabits  ? 
in  converse,  in  exercise,  in  argument,  knowest 
thou  not  that  thou  art  nourishing  a  God,  exercis- 
ing a  God  ?  Unhappy  man  !  thou  bearest  about 
with  thee  a  God,  and  knowest  it  not !  Thinkest 
thou  I  speak  of  some  God  of  gold  and  silver,  and 
external  to  thee  ?  Nay,  but  in  thyself  thou  dost 
bear  him,  and  seest  not  that  thou  defilest  him 
with  thine  impure  thoughts  and  filthy  deeds.  In 
the  presence  even  of  an  image  of  God  thou  had^t 
not  dared  to  do  one  of  those  things  which  thou 
dost.  But  in  the  presence  of  God  himself  within 
thee,  wiio  seeth  and  heareth  all  things,  thou  art 
not  ashamed  of  the  things  thou  dost  both  desire 
and  do,  O  thou  unwitting  of  thine  own  nature, 
and  subject  to  the  wrath  of  God  ! 

6.  Why,  then,  do  we  fear  in  sending  forth  a 
young  man  from  the  school  into  some  of  the  busi- 


158 


EPICTETUS. 


iiess  of  life,  lest  he  should  do  wrong  in  anjtliin<^, 
and  be  luxurious  or  profligate,  and  lest  a  wrap- 
ping of  rags  degrade  him,  or  fine  raiment  uplift 
him  ?  Such  a  one  knoweth  not  his  own  God,  nor 
with  whom  he  is  setting  out.  But  can  we  have 
patience  with  him,  saying.  Would  that  I  had 
you  with  me  !  *^  And  hast  thou  not  God  with 
tliee  there  ?  or  having  Him,  dost  thou  seek  for 
any  other?  or  will  He  speak  other  things  to  thee 
tlian  even  these  ? 

7.  But  wert  thou  a  statue  of  Pheidias,  an 
Athena  or  Zeus,  then  wert  thou  mindful  botli  of, 
thyself  and  of  the  artist ;  and  if  thou  hadst  any 
consciousness,  thou  wouldst  strive  to  do  nothing 
unworthy  of  thy  maker  nor  of  thyself,  nor  ever 
to  appear  in  any  unseemly  guise.  But  now  that 
Zeus  hath  made  thee,  thou  carest  therefore  noth- 
ing what  kind  of  creature  thou  showest  thyself 
for  ?  And  yet,  is  the  one  Artist  like  the  other 
artist,  or  the  one  work  like  the  other  work  ?  And 
what  kind  of  work  is  that  which  hath  in  itself 
the  faculties  tliat  were  manifest  in  the  making 
of  it?  Do  not  artists  work  in  stone  or  brass  or 
gold  or  ivory?  and  the  Athena  of  Pheidias, 
when  slie  hath  once  stretched  out  her  hand  and 
received  upon  it  the  figure  of  Victory,  standeth 
thus  for  all  time  ?  But  the  works  of  God  have 
motion  and  breathing,  and  the  use  of  appear- 
ances and  the  judgn^ient  of  them.  Wilt  thou 
dishonor  such  a  Maker,  whose  work  thou  art  ? 
Kay,  for  not  only  did  He  make  thee,  but  to  thee 
alone  did  He  trust  and  commit  thyself.  Wilt 
thou  not  remember  this  too,  or  wilt  thou  dis- 
honor thy  charge  ?  But  if  God  hath  committed 
some  orphan  child  to  thee,  wouldst  thou  have 
neglected  it  ?  Now  that  he  hath  given  thee  to 
thyself,  and  saith,  1  had  none  more  worthy  of 
tmtst  than  thee ;  keep  this  man  such  as  he  was 
made  hy  7iature—recerent^  faithful^  high^  unter- 


OF  DIVINATION. 


159 


rified^  unshaken  of  passions^  untroubled.  And 
thou  wilt  not. 

8.  But  they  may  say :  Whence  doth  this  fel- 
low hring  us  that  eye  of  scorn  and  soleran  looks  ? 
I  have  it  not  yet  as  I  should.  For  I  am  yet  un- 
bold  in  those  things  which  I  have  learned  and 
assented  to ;  I  yet  fear  my  weakness.  But  let 
me  be  bold  in  them,  and  then  yQ  shall  see  such  a 
look,  such  a  guise,  as  behoveth  me  to  wear. 
Then  shall  I  show  you  the  statue  when  it  is  per- 
fected and  polished.  What  look  ye  for? — an 
eye  of  scorn  ?  God  forbid  !  For  doth  the  Zeus 
in  Olympia  look  scornfully  ? — nay,  but  his  glance 
is  steadfast,  as  becometh  him  who  will  say, 

**  None  trusts  in  vain  my  irrevocable  word." — B,  i.  526. 

Such  will  I  show  myself  to  you — faithful,  rever- 
ent, generous,  untroubled.  Not  also^  then^  death- 
less^ ageless^  diseaseless  ?  Nay,  but  dying  as 
God,  sickening  as  a  God.  These  I  have,  these  I 
can  ;  but  other  things  I  neither  have  nor  can.  I 
will  show  you  the  thews  of  a  philosopher.  And 
what  are  these  ?  A  pursuit  that  never  fails,  an 
avoidance  that  never  miscarries,  seemly  desire, 
studious  resolve,  cautious  assent.^  These  shall 
you  see. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF  DIVINATION.^ 

1.  When  thou  goest  to  inquire  of  an  oracle, 
remember  that  what  the  event  will  be  thou 
knowest  not,  for  this  is  the  thing  thou  art  come 
to  learn  from  the  seer ;  but  of  what  nature  it  is 
(if  haply  thou  art  a  philsopher),  thou  knewest 
already  in  coming.  For  if  it  be  any  of  those 
things  that  are  not  in  our  own  power,  it  follows 
of  necessity  that  it  can  be  neither  good  nor  evil. 

2.  Bring,  therefore,  to  the  seer  neither  pur- 


160 


EPICTETUS. 


suit  nor  avoidance,  nor  go  before  him  with 
trembling,  but  well  knowing  that  all  events  are 
indifferent  and  nothing  to  thee.  For  whatever 
it  may  be,  it  shall  lie  with  thee  to  use  it  noblv  ; 
and  this  no  man  can  prevent.  Go,  then,  witli  a 
good  courage  to  the  Gods  as  to  counsellors ;  and 
for  the  rest,  when  anything  hath  been  counselled 
thee,  remember  of  whom  thou  hast  taken  counsel, 
and  whom  thou  wilt  be  slighting  if  thou  art  not 
obedient. 

3.  Therefore,  as  Socrates  would  iiave  it,  go  to 
the  oracle  for  tliose  matters  only  where  thy 
whole  inquiry  bendeth  solely  towards  the  event, 
and  where  there  are  no  means  either  from  reason 
or  any  other  art  for  knowing  beforehand  what 
it  shall  behove  thee  to  do.  Thus,  when  it  niay 
be  needful  to  share  some  peril  with  thy  friend 
or  thy  country,  inquire  of  no  oracle  whether  thou 
shouldst  do  the  thing.  For  if  the  seer  should 
declare  that  the  sacrifices  are  inauspicious,  this 
signifies  clearly  either  death,  or  the  loss  of  some 
limb,  or  banishment;  yet  doth  Eeason  decree 
that  even  so  thou  must  stand  by  thy  friend,  and 
share  thy  country's  danger. 

4.  Mark,  tlierefore,  that  greater  seer,  the  Py- 
thian, who  cast  out  of  his  temple  one  that,  when 
his  friend  was  being  murdered,  did  not  help 
him,^ 


END  OF  BOOK  IV. 


BOOK  V. 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE    BEHAVIOR  OF   A   PHILOSOPHER 

1.  Ordain  for  thyself  forthwith  a  certain  form 
'  and  type  of  conduct,  which  thou  shalt  maintain 

both  alone  and,  when  it  may  chance,  among  men. 

2.  And  for  tlie  most  part  keep  silence,  or  speak 
only  what  is  necessary,  and  in  few  words.  But 
when  occasion  may  call  thee  to  speak,  then  speak, 
but  sparingly,  and  not  about  any  subject  at  hap- 
hazard, nor  about  gladiators,  nor  horse  races,  nor 
athletes,  nor  things  to  eat  and  drink,  which  are 
talked  of  everywhere ;  but  above  all,  not  about 
men,  as  blaming  or  praising  or  comparing  them. 

If,  then,  thou  art  able,  let  thy  discourse  draw 
that  of  the  company  towards  what  is  seemly  and 
good.  But  if  thou  find  thyself  apart  among  men 
of  another  sort,  keep  silence. 

3.  Laugh  not  much,  nor  at  many  things,  nor 
unrestrainedly. 

4.  Eef  use  altogether,  if  thou  canst,  to  take  an 
oath ;  if  thou  canst  not,  then  as  the  circumstances 

allow.^ 

5..  Shun  banquets  given  by  strangers  and  by 
*  the  vulgar.  But  if  any  occasion  bring  thee  to 
them,  give  strictest  heed,  lest  thou  fall  unawares 
into  the  ways  of  the  vulgar.  For  know  that  if 
thy  companion  be  corrupt,  he  who  hath  conversa- 
tion with  him  must  needs  be  corrupted  also,  even 
if  himself  should  chance  to  be  pure. 

6.  Hath  any  of  you  the  art  of  a  lute-player 
when  he  takes  the  lute  in  his  hand,  so  as  at  once 
wlaen  he  hath  touched  the  strings  to  know  wliich 


162 


EPICTETUS. 


are  out  of  tune,  and  then  to  tnne  the  instrument? 
— §jich  a  gift  as  Socrates  liad,  whQ  in  every  com- 
pany could  lead  tliose  that  were  with  him  to  his 
own  topic  ?  Whence  should  you  liave  it  ?  but 
ye  must  needs  be  carried  about^^hither  and  thith- 
er by  the  vulgar.  And  wlierefore,  then,  are 
they  stronger  than  ye  ?  For  that  they  speak  their 
sorry  stuflf  from  belief;  but  ye,  your  fine  talk 
from  the  lips  out.  AVherefore  it  is  flat  and  dead  ; 
and  sickening  it  is  to  hear  your  exhortations  and 
this  wretclied  virtue  of  yours,  which  is  prated  of 
in  every  quarter.  And  thus  the  vulgar  conquer 
you.  For  everywhere  belief  is  mighty,  belief  is 
invincible.  Until  then  tlie  right  opinions  are 
hardened  in  you  ;  and  until  ye  sliall  have  gained 
a  certain  strength  for  your  safety,  I  counsel  you 
to  mingle  cautiously  with  the  vulgar,  else  every 
day,  like  wax  in  the  sun,  shall  whatever  hatJi 
been  written  in  you  in  the  school  be  melted 
away. 

7.  In  things  that  concern  the  body  accept 
only  so  far  as  the  bare  need — as  in  food,  drink, 
clothing,  habitation,  servants.  But  all  that 
makes  for  glory  or  luxury  thou  must  utterly 
proscribe. 

8.  Conceniing  intercourse  of  the  sexes,  it  is 
right  to  be  pure  before  marriage,  to  the  best  of 
thy  power.  But,  using  it,  let  a  man  have  to  do 
only  with  what  is  lawful.  Yet  be  not  grievous  to 
those  who  use  such  pleasures,  nor  censorious; 
nor  be  often  putting  thyself  forward  as  not  using 
them. 

9.  If  one  shall  bear  thee  word  that  such  a  one 
hath  spoken  evil  of  thee,  then  do  not  defend  thy- 
self against  his  accusations,  but  make  answer : 
He  little  knew  my  other  vices^  or  he  had  not 
mentioned  only  these. 

10.  There  is  no  necessit}^  to  go  often  to  the 
arena,  but  if  occasion  should  take  thee  there,  do 
not  appear  ardent  on  any  man's  sid^  but  thine 


BEHAVIOR  OF  A  PHILOSOPHER, 


163 


own  ;  that  is  to  say,  choose  that  only  to  happen 
which  does  happen,  and  that  the  conqueror  may 
be  simply  he  who  wins ;  for  so  shalt  thou  not  be 
thwarted.  But  from  shouting  and  laughing  at 
this  or  that,  or  violent  gesticulation,  thou  niust 
utterly  abstain.  And  when  thou  art  gone  away, 
converse  little  on  the  things  that  have  passed,  so 
far  as  they  make  not  for  thine  own  correction. 
For  from  that  it  would  appear  that  admiration 
of  the  spectacle  had  overcome  thee. 

11.  Go  not  freely  nor  indiscriminately  to  reci- 
tations.^ But  if  thou  go,  then  preserve  (yet 
without  being  grievous  to  others)  thy  gravity 
and  calmness. 

12.  When  thou  art  about  to  meet  anyone, 
especially  one  of  those  that  are  thought  in  high 
rank,  set  before  thy  mind  what  Socrates  or  Zeno 
had  done  in  such  a  case.  And  so  thou  wilt  not 
fail  to  deal  as  it  behoves  thee  with  the  occasion. 

13.  When  thou  goest  to  any  of  those  that  are 
great  in  power,  set  before  thy  mind  the  case  that 
tliou  wilt  not  find  him  at  home,  that  thou  wilt 
be  shut  out,  that  the  doors  may  be  slammed  in 
thy  face,  that  he  will  take  no  notice  of  thee. 
And  if  even  with  these  things  it  behoves  thee 
to  go,  then  go,  an.d  bear  all  that  happens ;  and 
never  say  to  thyself — It  was  not  worth  this.  For 
that  is  the  part  of  the  foolish,  and  of  tliose  that 
are  offended  at  outward  thinofs. 

14.  In  company,  be  it  far  from  thee  to  dwell 
much  and  over-measure  on  thine  own  deeds  and 
dangers.  For  to  dwell  on  thine  own  dangers  is 
pleasant  indeed  to  thee,  but  not  equally  pleasant 
for  others  is  it  to  hear  of  the  things  that  have 
chanced  to  thee. 

15.  Be  it  far  from  thee  to  move  laughter.  For 
that  habit  is  a  slijDpery  descent  into  vulgarity;^ 
and  it  is  always  enough  to  relax  thy  neighbors' 
respect  for  thee. 

16.  And  it  is  dangerous  to  approach  to  vicious 


f 


164 


EPICTETUS. 


conversation.  Therefore,  when  anything  of  the 
kind  may  arise,  rebuke,  if  tliere  is  opportunity, 
him  who  approacheth  tliereto.  But  if  not,  then 
at  least  by  silence  and  bhishing  and  grave  looks, 
let  it  be  plain  that  his  talk  is  disagreeable  to  thee. 


CHAPTER  II. 


ON   HABIT. 


1.  Every  skill  and  faculty  is  maintained  and 
increased  by  the  corresponding  acts;  as,  the 
faculty  of  walking  by  walking,  of  running  by 
running.  If  you'will  read  aloud  well,  then  do  it 
constantly  ;  if  you  will  write,  then  write.  But 
when  you  have  not  read  aloud  for  thirty  days  to- 
gether, but  done  something  else,  you  shall  see  the 
result.  Thus,  if  you  have  lain  down  for  ten  days, 
then  rise  up  and  endeavor  to  walk  a  good  distance, 
and  you  shall  see  how  your  legs  are  enfeebled. 
In  general,  then,  if  you  would  make  yourself 
skilled  in  anything,  then  do  it;  and  if  you  would 
refrain  from  anything,  then  do  it  not,  but  use 
yourself  to  do  rather  some  other  thing  instead 

of  it. 

2.  And  thus  it  is  in  spiritual  things  also. 
When  thou  art  wrathful,  know  that  not  this 
single  evil  hath  happened  to  thee,  but  that  thou 
hast  increased  the  aptness  to  it,  and,  as  it  were, 
poured  oil  upon  the  fire.  When  thou  art  over- 
come in  passion,  think  not  that  this  defeat  is  all ; 
but  thou  hast  nourished  thine  incontinence,  and 
increased  it.  For  it  is  impossible  but  that  apti- 
tudes and  faculties  should  spring  up  wliere  they 
were  not  before,  or  spread  and  grow  niightier, 
by  the  corresponding  act.  And  thus,  surely,  do 
also,  as  the  philosophers  say,  the  infirmities  of 
the  soul  grow  up.  For  when  thou  hast  once 
been  covetous  of  money,  if  Reason,  whifih  lead- 
eth  to  a  sense  of  the  v{ce,  be  called  to  9,id,  then 


ON  HABIT. 


165 


bo til  the  desire  is  set  at  rest,  and  our  ruling 
faculty  is  re-established,  as  it  was  in  the  begin- 
ning. But  if  thou  bring  no  remedy  to  aid,  then 
shall  the  soul  return  no  more  to  the  first  estate ; 
but  when  next  excited  by  the  corresponding  ap- 
pearance, shall  be  kindled  to  desire  even  more 
quickly  than  before.  And  when  this  is  continu- 
ally happening,  the  soul  becomes  callous  in  the 
end,  and  through  its  infirmity  the  love  of  money 
is  strengthened.  For  he  that  hath  had  a  fever, 
when  the  illness  hath  left  him,  is  not  what  he 
was  before  his  fever,  unless  he  have  been  entire- 
ly healed.  And  somewhat  on  this  wise  also  it 
happens  in  the  affections  of  the  soul;  certain 
traces  and  scars  are  left  in  it,  the  which  if  a  man 
do  not  wholly  eradicate,  when  he  hath  been 
again  scourged  on  the  same  j)lace,  it  shall  make 
no  longer  scars,  but  sores. 

3.  Wouldst  thou,  then,  be  no  longer  of  a  wrath- 
ful temper  ?  Then  do  not  nourish  the  aptness  to 
it,  give  it  nothing  that  will  increase  it,  be  tran- 
quil from  the  outset,  and  number  the  days  when 
thou  hast  not  been  wrathful.  I  have  not  heeii 
wrathful  now  for  one^  now  for  two^  noio  for 
three  days  ;  but  if  thou  have  saved  thirty  days, 
then  sacrifice  to  God.  For  the  aptness  is  at  first 
enfeebled,  and  then  destroyed.  To-day  I  was 
not  vexed^  nor  to-morrow^  nor  for  two  or  three 
months  together;  hut  I  was  heedful  when  any- 
thing happened  to  move  me  thus.  Know  that 
thou  art  in  good  case.  To-day,  when  I  saw  a 
fair  woman,  I  did  not  say  to  myself,  Woidd  that 
one  could  possess  her ;  nor,  Hapjpy  is  her  hus- 
band^ for  he  who  saith  this  saitli  also,  Happy  is 
her  paramour :  nor  do  I  picture  to  my  mind 
what  should  follow.  But  I  stroke  my  head,  and 
say,  Well  done^  Epictetus !  you  have  solved  a 
fine  sophism^  finer  hy  far  than  the  master  soph- 
ism. But  if  she  wej'e  also  willing  and  consent- 
ing, and  sent  to  me,  and  if  she  also  laid  hold  of 


r^^ 


166 


EPICTETUS, 


me,  and  drew  near  to  nie,  and  I  should  yet  re- 
strain myself  and  conquer,  this  were,  indeed, 
then,  a  sophism  above  the  Liar,  above  the  Quies- 
cent. Verily,  for  this  a  man's  spirit  may  rightly 
swell,  and  not  for  propounding  the  master  soph- 

ism.^ 

4.  How,  then,  may  this  come  to  pass  ?  Ke- 
solve  at  last  to  seek  thine  own  commendation,  to 
appear  fair  in  the  eyes  of  God ;  desire  to  become 
pure  with  thine  own  pure  self,  and  with  God. 
Then  when  thou  shalt  fall  in  with  any  appear- 
ance such  as  \ve  have  spoken  of,  what  saith 
Plato  ?  Go  to  the  purifying  sacrifices,  go  and 
pray  in  the  temples  of  me  protecting  Gods?  It 
shall  even  suffice  if  thou  seek  the  company  of 
good  and  wise  men,  and  try  thyself  by  one  of 
them,  whether  he  be  one  of  the  living  or  of  the 

dead. 

5.  By  opposing  these  remedies  thou  shalt  con- 
quer tiie  appearance,  nor  be  led  captive  by  it. 
But  at  the  outset,  be  not  swept  away  by  the 
vehemence  of  it;  but  say.  Await  me  a  little, 
thou  appearance ;  let  me  see  what  thou  art,  and 
with  what  thou  hast  to  do  ;  let  me  approve  thee. 
And  then  permit  it  not  to  lead  thee  forward, 
and  to  picture  to  thee  what  should  follow,  else  it 
shall  take  possession  of  thee,  and  cai-ry  thee 
whithersoever  it  will.  But  rather  bring  in 
against  it  some  otlier  fair  and  noble  appearance, 
and  there  withal  cast  out  this  vile  one.  And  if 
thou  use  to  exercise  thyself  in  this  way,  thou 
shalt  see  what  shoulders'^and  nerves  and  sinews 
thou  wilt  have!  But  now  we  have  only  word- 
iness, and  nothing  more. 

6.  This  is  the  true  athlete,^  he  who  exerciseth 
himself  against  such  appearances.  Hold,  un- 
happv  man  !  be  not  swept  away.  Great  is  the 
contest,  divine  task,  for  kinoship,  for  freedom, 
for  prosperity,  for  tranquillity.  Be  mindful  of 
God,  call  Him  to  be  thy  helper  and  defender,  as 


bH  "BABtT. 


1^ 


itleii  at  sea  call  upon  the  Dioscuri  in  a  storm.* 
For  what  greater  tempest  is  there  than  that 
which  proceedeth  from  appearances,  that  mightily 
overcome  and  expel  the  Reason?  Yea,  a  storm 
itself,  what  is  it  but  an  appearance  ?  For,  take 
away  only  the  dread  of  death,  and  bring  as  many 
tliunderings  and  lightnings  as  thou  wilt,  and  thou 
shalt  see  wliat  fair  weather  and  calm  there  will 
be  in  the  ruling  faculty.  But  if  having  been 
once  defeated,  thou  shalt  say.  The  next  time  I 
will  conquer ;  and  then  the  same  thing  over 
again,  be  sure  that  in  the  end  thou  wilt  be 
brought  to  such  a  sorry  and  feeble  state  that 
henceforth  thou  wilt  not  so  much  as  know  that 
thou  art  sinning ;  but  thou  wilt  begin  to  make 
excuses  for  the  thing,  and  then  confirm  that  say- 
ing of  Hesiod  to  be  true : — 

"  With  ills  unending  strives  the  putter  off." 

— Works  and  Days,  411. 

7.  What  then  ?  can  a  man  make  this  resolve, 
and  so  stand  up  faultless?  He  cannot ;  but  this 
nmch  he  can — to  be  ever  straining  towards  fault- 
lessness.  For  happy  it  were  if,  by  never  relax- 
ing this  industrious  heed,  we  shall  rid  ourselves 
of  at  least  a  few  of  our  faults.  But  now,  when 
thou  say  est,  From  to-morrow  I  shall  be  heedful, 
know  that  this  is  what  thou  art  saying  : — To-day 
/shall  he  shameless,  impo7'tunate.  ahject ;  it  shall 
he  in  others^  poimr  to  afflict  me  ;  to-day  I  shall 
he  wrathful,  envious.  *Lo,  to  how  many  vices 
dost  thou  give  place?  But  if  aught  be  well  to- 
morrow, how  much  better  to-day  ?  if  to-morrow 
suit,  how  much  better  to-day  ?  Yea,  and  for  this, 
too,  that  thou  mayest  have  the  power  to-morrow, 
and  not  again  put  it  ofE  till  the  third  day. 


\ 


168 


BPICTETVS. 


CHAPTEK  III, 


ON   DISPUTATION. 


1.  What  things  a  man  must  have  learned  in 
order  to  be  able  to  reason  well  have  been  accu- 
rately defined  by  our  philosophers ;  but  in  the 
fitting  use  of  them  we  are  wholly  unexercised. 
Give  any  one  of  us  whom  ye  please  some  igno- 
rant man  for  a  disputant,  and  he  shall  find  no  way 
to  deal  with  him  ;  but  if,  when  he  hath  moved 
him  a  little,  the  man  answer  beside  the  purpose, 
he  is  no  longer  able  to  manage  him,  but  either 
he  will  revile  him,  or  mock  him,  and  say.  He  is 
cm  ignorant  fellow ;  nothing  can  he  done  with 

him. 

2.  But  a  guide,  when  he  hath  found  one  stray- 
ing from  the  way,  leads  him  into  the  proper  road, 
and  does  not  mock  him  or  revile  him,  and  then 
go  away.  And  do  thou  show  such  a  man  the 
truth,  and  thou  shalt  see  that  he  will  follow  it. 
But  so  long  as  thou  dost  not  show  it,  mock  him 
not,  but  be  sensible  rather  of  thine  own  incapa- 

citv. 

3.  But  what?  this  business  of  instruction  is 
not  very  safe  at  present,  and  least  of  all  in  Rome ; 
for  he  who  pursues  it  will  of  course  feel  con- 
strained not  to  do  it  in  a  corner,  but  he  must  go 
to  some  man  of  consular  rank,  it  may  be,  or 
some  rich  man,  and  inquire  of  him:  Sir,  can 
you  tell  me  to  whom  you  have  committed  the 
care  of  j^our  horses  ?  Surely.  Was  it,  then,  to 
any  chance-comer  and  one  inexperienced  about 
horses  ?  By  no  means.  Well,  then,  to  whom 
are  your  gold  and  silver  vessels  and  raiment  en- 
trusted? Neither  are  these  committed  to  any 
chance  person.  And  your  body,  have  you  already 
sought  out  one  to  whom  to  commit  the  care  of 


If 


BE  SLOW  IN  ACCEPTING  PLEASURE.     169 

it  ?  Ilotc  now  ?  And  that  also  one  who  is  ex- 
perienced in  training  and  medicine  ?  Assuredly, 
VVliether,  now,  are  these  the  best  things  3^ou 
have,  or  do  you  possess  aught  that  is  better  than 
all  of  tliem  ?  What  thing  do  you  mean  f  Tha^t, 
by  Zeus,  which  usetli  all  these,  and  approveth 
each  of  them  and  taketh  counsel.  Is  it  the 
soul^  then^  that  you  mean?  You  have  conceived 
me  rightly  ;  it  is  even  this.  Truly  I  hold  that 
I  possess  in  this  something  much  hetter  than 
everything  else.  Can  you  then  declare  to  us  in 
what  manner  you  have  taken  thought  for  your 
soul  ?  for  it  is  not  likely  that  a  wise  man  like 
yourself,  and  one  of  repute  in  the  state,  would 
overlook  the  best  thing  you  possess,  and  use  no 
diligence  or  design  about  it,  but  leave  it  neg- 
lected and  perishing  ?  Surely  not.  But  do  you 
provide  for  it  yourself?  and  have  you  learned 
the  way  from  another,  or  discovered  it  yourself? 
4.  And  then  at  last  there  is  danger  lest  he  say 
first.  Good  sir,  what  is  this  to  you  f  who  are 
you  ?  and  then,  if  you  persist  in  troubling  him, 
that  he  may  lift  up  his  hands  and  smite  you. 
Once  I  too  was  an  admirer  of  this  method  until 
I  fell  into  these  difliculties. 


CHAPTER  ly. 

THAT  WE  SHOULD  BE  SLOW  IN  ACCEPTING  PLEASURE. 

1,  When  thou  hast  received  the  appearance  of 
some  pleasure,  then,  as  in  other  things,  guard 
thyself  lest  thou  be  carried  away  by  it,  but  delay 
with  thyself  a  little,  and  let  the  thing  await  thee 
for  a  while.  Then  bethink  thyself  of  the  two 
periods  of  time,  one  when  thou  shalt  be  enjoy- 
ing the  pleasure,  the  other,  when,  having  enjoyed 
it,  thou  shalt  afterwards  repent  of  it  and  re- 
proach thyself.     And  set  on  the  other  side  how 


170 


EPICTETUS. 


thou  shalt  rejoice  and  commend  thyself  if  thou 
abstain. 

2.  But  if  it  seem  reasonable  to  thee  to  do  the 
thing,  beware  lest  thou  have  been  conquered  by 
the  flattery  and  the  sweetness  and  the  allure- 
m'ent  of  it.  But  set  on  the  other  side  how  much 
better  were  the  consciousness  of  having  won 
that  victory. 


CHAPTEK  V. 

THAT  WE   SHOULD    BE   OPEN   IN    OTTR  "DFYLTKOS. 

In  doing  aught  wliicli  thou  hast  clearly  dis- 
cerned as  right  to  do,  seek  never  to  avoid  being 
seen  in  the  doing  thereof,  even  though  the  multi- 
tude should  be  destined  to  form  some  wrong  opin- 
ion concerning  it.  For  if  thou  dost  not  right, 
avoid  the  deed,  itself.  But  if  rightly,  why  fear 
those  who  will  wrongly  rebuke  thee  ? 


CHAPTER  YI. 

THAT   HALF   TRUE   MAY   BE   ALL   FALSE. 

As  the  sayings,  It  is  day^  It  is  night,  are  wholly 
justifiable  if  viewed  disjunctively,^  but  not  if 
viewed  together,  even  so  at  a  feast,  to  pick  out 
the  largest  portion  for  oneself  may  be  justifiable, 
if  we  look  to  the  needs  of  the  body  alone,  but 
is  unjustifiable  if  viewed  as  it  concerns  the  pres- 
ervation of  the  proper  community  in  the  feast. 
Therefore  in  eating  with  another  person,  remem- 
ber not  to  look  only  at  the  value  for  the  body  of 
the  things  that  are  set  before  thee,  but  to  pre- 
serve also  the  reverence  due  to  the  giver  of  the 
feast. 


i3®  MEASURE  OF  GAIN. 


17i 


CHAPTER  VIL 

THAT   EACH   MAN   PLAY   HIS   OWN   PART. 

1.  If  thou  hast  assumed  a  part  beyond  thy 
power  to  play,  then  thou  hast  both  come  to 
shame  in  that,  and  missed  one  thou  couldst  have 
well  performed. 

2.  And  some  one  having  inquired,  Hov),  then, 
shall  each  of  us  perceive  what  character  he  hefits  f 
Whence,  said  Epictetus,  doth  the  bull  alone, 
w^hen  the  lion  approacheth,  discover  his  own 
capacity,  and  advance  to  defend  the  whole  herd? 
It  is  clear  that  with  the  capacity  is  ever  joined 
the  perception  of  the  same,  and  thus,  whoever  of 
us  may  possess  a  like  capacity  will  not  be  igno- 
rant of  it.  But  a  bull  is  not  made  in  a  moment, 
nor  is  a  man  of  generous  spirit ;  but  we  must 
have  preparation  and  winter-training,^  and  not 
hghtly  rush  upon  things  that  do  not  concern  us. 


CHAPTER  YIIL 

THAT  WE   SHOULD    BE   CAREFUL   OF   THE    SOUL    AS 

OF    THE   BODY. 

In  going  about,  you  are  careful  not  to  step 
upon  a  nail  or  twist  your  foot.  Care  thus  also, 
lest  you  injure  your  ruling  faculty.  And  if  we 
observe  this  in  each  thing  we  do,  we  shall  the 
more  safely  undertake  it. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE   MEASURE   OF   GAIN. 


The  measure  of  gain  for  each  man  is  the  body, 
as  the  foot  is  for  the  shoe.     Take  your  stand  on 


m 


JBPICTETUS. 


this,  and  yon  shall  preserve  the  measure.  Bnt 
if  you  transgress  it,  you  must  thenceforth  be 
borne,  as  it  were,  down  a  steep.  And  so  it  is 
with  the  shoe,  for  if  you  will  go  beyond  tlie 
measure  of  the  foot,  the  shoe  will  be  first  gilded, 
then  dyed  purple,  then  embroidered.  For  that 
which  hath  once  transgressed  its  measure  hath 
no  longer  any  Unit. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   WORTH   OF   WOMEN. 

From  the  age  of  fourteen  years  women  are 
flattered  and  worshipped  by  men.  Seeing  thus 
tliat  there  is  nothing  else  for  them  but  to  serve 
the  pleasure  of  men,  they  begin  to  beautify 
themselves,  and  to  place  all  their  hopes  in  this. 
It  were  well,  then,  that  they  should  perceive 
themselves  to  be  prized  for  nothing  else  than 
modesty  and  decorum. 


CIIAPTEE  XL 

A  DFLL   NATURE. 

It  betokens  a  dull  nature  to  be  greatly  occupied 
in  ujatters  that  concern  the  body,  as  to  be  much 
concerned  about  exercising  oneself,  in  eating,  in 
drinking,  and  other  bodily  acts.  But  these  things 
should  be  done  by  the  way,  and  all  attention  be 
given  to  the  mind. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OF   ADORNMENT   OF   THE   PERSON. 

1.  A  CERTAIN  young  man,  a  rhetorician,  having 
come  to  Epictetus  with  his  hair  dressed  in  an 
unusually  elaborate  way,  and  his  other  attire 


OF  AbORI^MENT  OF  THF  PERSON.        173 

milch  adorned.  Tell  me,  said  Epictetus,  think 
you  not  that  some  dogs  are  beautiful,  and  some 
horses,  and  so  of  the  other  animals  ? 

"  I  do  think  it,"  said  he. 

And   men   too— are   not  some  beautiful  and 
some  ill-favored  ? 

"  How  otherwise  ? " 

Whether,  then,  do  we  call  each  of  these  beau- 
tiful for  the  same  reasons  and  in  the  same  kind, 
or  each  for  something  proper  to  itself?  And 
you  shall  see  the  matter  thus :  Inasmuch  as  we 
observe  a  dog  to  be  formed  by  nature  for  one 
end,  and  a  horse  for  another,  and,  let  us  say,  a 
nightingale  for  another,  we  may  in  general  say, 
not  unreasonably,  that  each  of  them  is  then 
beautiful  when  it  is  excellent  according  to  its 
own  nature ;  but  since  tlie  nature  of  each  is  dif- 
ferent, different  also,  it  seems  to  me,  is  the  man- 
ner of  being  beautiful  in  each.  Is  it  not  so  ? 
He  acknowledged  that  it  was. 
Therefore,  that  which  maketh  a  dog  beautiful 
raaketh  a  horse  ill-favored  ;  and  that  which 
maketh  a  horse  beautiful,  a  dog  ill-favored ; 
if,  indeed,  their  natures  are  different  ? 

"  So  it  seems." 

And  that  which  maketh  a  beautiful  Pancrati- 
ast,^  the  same  maketh  a  wrestler  not  good,  and  a 
runner  utterly  laughable.  And  he  who  is  beau- 
tiful for  the  Pentathlon  is  very  bad  for  wrest- 
ling ? 

"  It  is  so,"  he  said. 

What  is  it,  then,  that  makes  a  man  beautiful  ? 
Is  it  not  that  which,  in  its  kind,  makes  also  a  dog 
or  a  liorse  beautiful  ? 

"  It  is  that,"  he  answered. 

What,  then,  makes  a  dog  beautiful?  The 
presence  of  the  virtue  of  a  dog.  And  a  horse  ? 
The  presence  of  the  virtue  of  a  horse.  And 
what,  then,  a  man  ?  Is  it  not  also  the  presence 
of  the  virtue  of  a  man  ?    And,  O  youth,  if  thou 


iri 


174 


EPICTETUS. 


wouldst  be  beautiful,  do  tliou  labor  to  perfect 
this,  the  virtue  of  a  human  being.  But  what  is 
it  ?  Look  whom  you  praise  when  you  praise 
any  without  affection — is  it  the  righteous  or  the 
unrighteous  ? 

"  The  righteous/' 

Is  it  the  temperate  or  the  profligate  ? 

"  The  temperate." 

Is  it  the  continent  or  the  incontinent  ? 

"  The  continent." 

Then  making  yourself  such  a  one  as  you  praise, 
you  will  know  that  you  are  making  yourself 
beautiful ;  but  so  long  as  you  neglect  these  things, 
though  you  sought  out  every  device  to  appear 
beautiful,  you  must  of  necessity  be  ugly. 

2.  For  thou  art  not  flesh  and  hair,  but  a  Will : 
if  thou  keep  this  beautiful,  then  wilt  thou  be 
beautiful.  But  so  far  I  dare  not  tell  thee  that 
thou  art  ugly,  for  I  think  thou  wilt  more  easily 
bear  to  hear  anvthinff  else  than  this.  But  see 
what  Socrates  saith  to  Alcibiades,  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  blooming  of  men  :  Endeavor^  then^  to 
he  heautiful  /  and  what  saith  he  ?  Curl  thy  locJcs^ 
and  jpluck  oxit  the  hairs  of  thy  legs  ?  God  for- 
bid. But  set  thy  Will  in  order^  cast  out  evil 
doctrines. 

"  And  how  then  shall  we  deal  with  the 

body  ? " 

As  Nature  made  it.  Another  hath  cared  for 
this  ;  commit  it  to  Him. 

"  But  what  ?     Shall  the  body  then  be  un- 

cleansed  ? " 

God  forbid.  But  that  which  thou  art  and 
wast  made  by  Nature,  cleanse  this ;  let  a  man 
be  clean  as  a  man,  a  woman  as  a  woman,  a  child 
as  a  child. 

3.  For  we  ought  not  even  by  the  aspect  of  the 
body  to  scare  away  the  multitude  from  philoso- 
phy ;  but  by  his  body,  as  in  all  other  things,  a 
philosopher  should  show  himself  cheerful,  and 


OF  ADORNMENT  OF  THE  PERSON.        175 

free  from  troubles.  Behold j  friends^  how  I  ha/ve 
nothing  and  need  nothing  ^  behold  how  I  am 
homeless  and  landless^  and  an  exile^  if  so  it 
chance,  and  hearthless^  and  yet  I  live  more  free 
from  troubles  than  all  the  lordly  and  tlie  rich. 
But  look  on  my  body^  too  ;  ye  see  that  it  is  not 
the  worse  for  my  hard  life.  But  if  one  saith  this 
to  me,  having  the  countenance  and  garb  of  a 
condemned  criminal,  what  God  shall  persuade 
me  to  approach  to  philosophy  which  makes  such 
men  as  this  ?  God  forbid !  *  I  would  not,  were 
it  even  to  become  a  sage. 

4.  I,  indeed,  by  the  Gods,  had  rather  a  young 
man  in  his  first  movement  towards  philosophy 
came  to  me  with  his  hair  curled  than  dishevelled 
and  foul.  For  a  certain  impression  of  the  beau- 
tiful is  to  be  seen  in  him ;  and  an  aim  at  what  is 
becoming,  and  to  the  thing  wherein  it  seemeth 
to  him  to  lie,  there  he  applies  his  art.  Thence- 
forth it  only  needs  to  show  him  its  true  place, 
and  to  say, "  Young  man^  thou  seekest  the  beauti- 
ful^ and  thou  dost  well.  Know^  then^  that  it 
floxirishes  there  where  thy  Reason  is:  there  seek 
it  where  are  thy  likes  and  dislikes^  thy  pursuits 
and  avoidanci'S^  for  this  is  vjhat  thou  hast  in 
thyself  of  clwice  and  j)recious^  but  the  body  is  1/y 
nature  mud.  Why  dost  thou  spend  thy  labor 
upon  it  in  vain  ?  for  that  the  body  is  naughty 
Time  shall  certainly  teach  thee^  though  it  teach 
thee  nothing  else.  But  if  one  come  to  me  foul 
and  filthy,  and  a  moustache  down  to  the  knees, 
what  have  I  to  say  to  him  ?  with  what  image  or 
likeness  can  I  draw  him  on  ?  For  with  what 
that  is  like  unto  Beauty  hath  he  ever  busied  him- 
self so  as  I  may  set  him  on  another  course,  and 
say.  Not  here  'is  Beauty,  but  there  f  W\\\  you 
have  me  tell  him,  Beatcty  consists  not  in  being 
befouled,  but  in  the  Reason  ?  For  doth  he  even 
seek  Beauty  ?  hath  he  any  impression  of  it  in 


fl 


j|  i 


176 


EPICTETUS. 


his  inind  ?     Go,  and  reason  with  a  hog,  that  he 
sliali  not  roll  himself  in  the  mud. 

5.  Behold  a  youth  worthy  of  love — behold  an 
old  man  worthy  to  love,  and  to  be  loved  in  re- 
turn ;  to  whom  one  may  commit  his  sons,  his 
daughters,  to  be  taught ;  to  whom  young  men 
may  come,  if  it  please  you — that  he  may  deliver 
lectures  to  them  on  a  dunghill!  God  forbid. 
Every  extravagance  arises  from  something  in 
human  nature,  but  this  is  near  to  being  one  tbat 
is  not  human. 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

WHY   WE    SHOULD   BEAR   WITH   WRONG. 

When  some  one  may  do  you  an  injury,  or 
speak  ill  of  you,  remember  that  he  either  does  it 
or  speaks  it  believing  that  it  is  right  and  meet 
for  him  to  do  so.  It  is  not  possible  then,  that 
he  can  follow  the  thing  that  appears  to  you, 
but  the  thing  that  appears  to  hiin.  Wherefore 
if  it  appear  evil  to  him,  it  i?  he  that  is  in- 
jured, being  deceived.  For  also  if  anj^  one  should 
take  a  true  consequence  to  be  false,  it  is  not  the 
consequence  that  is  injured,  but  he  which  is  de- 
ceived. Setting  out,  then,  from  these  opinions, 
you  will  bear  a  gentle  mind  towards  any  man 
who  may  revile  you.  For,  say  on  each  occasion, 
So  it  appeared  to  him. 


CIIArTER  XIV. 

THAT  EVERYTHING  HATH  TWO  HANDLES. 

Every  matter  hath  two  handles — by  the  one  it 
may  be  carried  ;  by  the  other,  not.  If  tliy 
brother  do  thee  wrong,  take  not  this  thing  by  the 
handle.  He  wrongs  me ;  for  that  is  the  handle 
whereby  it  may  not  be  carried.    But  take  it 


PERCEPTION  AND  JUDGMENT. 


177 


rather  by  the  handle,  He  is  my  Irother^  nour 
islied  with  me  /  and  thou  wilt  take  it  by  the 
handle  whereby  it  may  be  carried. 


ings 


CHAPTER  XY. 

ON  CERTAIN  FALSE  CONCLUSIONS. 

There  is  no  true  conclusion  in  these  reason- 
/  am  richer  than  thoUj  therefore  I  am  bet- 
ter :  lam  more  eloquent  than  thou^  therefore  I 
am  better.  But  the  conclusions  are  rather  these : 
/  arfh  richer  than  thou^  therefore  my  wealth  is 
better :  I  am  more  eloquent  than  thou^  therefore 
'my  speech  is  better.  But  thou  art  not  wealth, 
and  thou  art  not  speech. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

PERCEPTION   AND   JUDGMENT. 

1.  Doth  a  man  bathe  himself  quickly?  Then, 
say  not,  Wro7igly^  but  Quicliy.  Doth  he  drink 
much  wine  ?  Then  say  not  Wrongly^  but  Much. 
For  whence  do  you  know  if  it  were  ill  done  till 
you  have  understood  his  opinion  ? 

2.  Thus  it  sliall  not  befall  you  to  assent  to  any 
other  tilings  than  those  whereof  you  are  truly 
and  directly  sensible.^ 

3.  What  is  the  cause  of  assenting  to  anything? 
The  appearance  that  it  is  so.  But  if  it  appear 
to  be  not  so,  it  is  impossible  to  assent  to  it. 
Wherefore  ?  For  that  this  is  the  nature  of  the 
mind,  to  receive  the  true  with  favor,  the  false 
with  disfavor,  and  the  uncertain  with  iiidiflfer- 
ence.  The  proof  of  tliis?  P)e  sure  if  you  can, 
at  this  moment,  that  it  is  night.  You  cannot. 
Cease  to  be  sure  that  it  is  day.  You  cannot. 
Be  sure  that  the  stars  are  odd  in  number,  or  that 
they  are  Qven,    You  cannot.     When,  therefore, 


^1 


178 


EPICTETUS. 


w«« 


anv  man  bIiouIcI  assent  to  what  is  false,  know 
tliat  he  had  no  will  to  consent  to  falsehood  ;  for, 
as  saith  Plato,  no  soul  is  willingly  deprived  of 
the  truth,  but  the  false  appeared  to  it  to  be  true. 
Come,  then,  what  have  we  in  actions  correspond- 
ing to  this  true  and  false  ?  The  seemly  and  the 
unseemly,  the  profitable  and  the  nnprofitable, 
that  which  concerns  me  and  that  which  doth 
not  concern  me,  and  such  like.  Can  any  man 
think  that  a  certain  thing  is  for  his  protit,  and 
not  elect  to  do  it  ?  He  cannot.  How,  then,  is 
it  with  her  who  saith — 

**  And  well  I  know  the  evils  I  shall  do, 
But  wrath  is  lord  of  all  my  purposes  "  ? 

—Medea,  1079. 

For,  did  she  hold  this  very  thing,  to  gratify  her 
wrath  and  avenge  herself  on  her  husband,  more 
profitable  than  to  spare  lier  children  ?  Even  so  ; 
but  slie  was  deceived.  Show  her  clearly  that  she 
was  deceived,  and  she  will  not  do  it ;  but  so  long 
as  you  show  it  not,  what  else  hath  she  to  follow 
than  the  thing  as  it  appears  to  her  ?  Nothing. 
Wherefore,  then,  have  you  indignation  with  her, 
that  the  unhappy  wretch  has  gone  astray  con- 
cerning the  greatest  things,  and  has  become  a 
viper  instead  of  a  human  being  ?  If  anything, 
will  you  not  rather  pity,  as  we  pity  the  blind 
and  the  lame,  those  that  are  blinded  and  lamed 
in  the  chiefest  of  their  faculties  ? 

4.  ^'  So  that  all  these  great  and  dreadful 

deeds  have  this  same  origin  in  the  appearance  of 
the  thing  ? " 

The  same  and  no  other.  The  Iliad  is  naught 
but  appearance,  and  the  use  of  appearances.  The 
thing  that  appeared  to  Paris  was  the  carrying  off 
of  the  wife  of  Menelaus ;  the  thing  that  appeared 
to  Helen  was  to  accompany  him.  Had  it,  then, 
appeared  to  Menelaus  to  be  sensible  that  it  was  a 
gain  to  be  deprived  of  such  a  wife,  what  would 


PERCEPTION  AND  JUDGMENT. 


179 


have  happened  ?     Not  only  had  there  been  no 
Iliadj  but  no  Odyssey  neither. 

"  On  such  a  little  thing  do  such  great  ones 

hang  ?  '• 

But  what  talk  is  this  of  great  things  ?  Wars 
and  seditions  and  destructions  of  many  men,  and 
overthrow  of  cities  ?  And  what  is  there  of  great 
in  these  ?  Nothing.  For  what  is  there  of  great- 
ness in  the  death  of  many  oxen  and  sheep,  and 
the  burning  or  overthrow  of  many  nests  of  swal- 
lows or  storks  ? 

"  But  are  these  things  like  unto  those  ? " 

They  are  most  like.  The  bodies  of  men  are 
destroyed,  and  the  bodies  of  oxen  and  of  slieej). 
The  dwellings  of  men  are  burned,  and  the  nests 
of  storks.  What  is  there  great,  what  is  there 
awful  in  this?  Or  show  me  wherein  differcth 
the  dwelling  of  a  man,  as  a  dwelling,  from  the 
nest  of  a  stork,  save  that  the  one  buildeth  his 
little  houses  of  planks  and  tiles  and  bricks,  and 
the  other  of  sticks  and  mud  ? 

"  Are  a  stork  and  a  man,  then,  alike  ? " 

What  say  you  ?     In  body  they  are  most  like. 

"  Doth  a  man,  then,  differ  in  no  resj)ect 

from  a  stork  ? " 

God  forbid ;  but  in  these  matters  there  is  no 
difference. 

"  Wherein  then,  doth  he  differ  ? " 

Seek,  and  you  shall  find  that  in  another  thing 
there  is  a  difference.  Look  if  it  be  not  in  the 
observing  and  studying  of  what  he  doth ;  look  if 
it  be  not  in  his  social  instinct,  in  his  faith,  his 
reverence,  his  steadfastness,  his  understanding. 
Where,  then,  is  the  great  Good  or  Evil  for  man  ? 
There,  where  the  difference  is.  If  this  be  saved, 
and  abide,  as  it  were,  in  a  fortress,  and  reverence 
be  not  depraved,  nor  faith,  nor  understanding, 
then  is  the  man  also  saved.  But  if  one  of  these 
things  perish,  or  be  taken  by  storm,  then  doth 
the  man  also  perish.     And  in  this  it  is  that  great 


180 


FPICTETUS. 


Ill 


i 


actions  are  done.  It  was  a  mighty  downfall, 
they  say,  for  Paris,  when  the  Greeks  came, 
and  when  they  sacked  Troy,  and  when  his 
brothers  perished.  Not  so;  for  througli  an- 
other's act  can  no  man  fall — that  was  the  sacking 
of  the  stork's  nests.  But  the  downfall  w^as  then 
when  he  lost  reverence  and  faith,  when  be  be- 
trayed hospitality  and  violated  decorum.  When 
was  the  fall  of  Achilles  ?  When  Patroclns  died  \ 
God  forbid ;  but  when  he  was  wrathful,  wlien  lie 
bewept  the  loss  of  his  girl,  when  he  forgot  that  he 
was  there  not  to  win  mistresses  but  to  make  war. 
These,  for  men,  are  downfall  and  storming  and 
overthrow,  when  right  opinions  are  demolished 
or  depraved. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THAT   THE    PHILOSOPHER    SHALL    EXHIBIT    TO   THE 
VULGAR   DEEDS,    NOT   WORDS. 

1.  Thou  shalt  never  proclaim  thyself  a  philoso- 
pher, nor  speak  much  among  the  vulgar  of  the 
philosophic  maxims ;  but  do  the  things  that  fol- 
low from  tlie  maxims.  For  example,  do  not 
discourse  at  a  feast  upon  how  one  ought  to  eat, 
but  eat  as  one  ought.  For  remember  that  even 
so  Socrates  everywhere  banished  ostentation,  so 
that  men  used  to  come  to  him  desiring  that  he 
would  recommend  them  to  teachers  of  philoso- 
phy, and  he  brought  them  away  and  did  so,  so 
well  did  he  bear  to  be  overlooked. 

2.  And  if  among  the  vulgar  discourse  should 
arise  concerning  some  maxim  of  thy  philosophy, 
do  thou  for  the  most  part,  keep  silence,  for  there 
is  great  risk  that  thou  straightway  vomit  up 
what  thoii  hast  not.  digested.  And  when  some 
one  shall  say  to  thee,  T^ioic  hiowest  naughty  and 
it  bites  thee  not,  then  know  that  thou  hast  begun 
the  work. 


TOKENS. 


181 


3.  And  as  sheep  do  not  bring  their  food  to  the 
shepherds  to  show  how  much  they  have  eaten, 
but  digesting  inwardly  their  provender,  bear  out- 
w^ardly  wool  and  milk,  even  so  do  not  thou,  for 
the  most  part,  display  the  maxims  before  the 
vulgar,  but  rather  the  works  which  follow  from 
them  when  they  are  digested. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

ASCESIS. 

When  you  have  adapted  the  body  to  a  frugal 
way  of  living,  do  not  flatter  yourself  on  that,  nor 
if  you  drink  only  water,  say,  on  every  opportu- 
nity, /  drink  only  water.  And  if  you  desire  at 
any  time  to  inure  yourself  to  labor  and  endur 
ance,  do  it  to  yourself  and  not  unto  the  world. 
And  do  not  embrace  the  statues  ;  but  some  time 
when  you  are  exceedingly  thirsty  take  a  mouth- 
ful of  cold  water,  and  spit  it  out,  and  say  noth- 
ing; about  it. 


CHAPTER  XI_ 

TOKENS. 

1.  The  position  and  token  of  the  vulgar :  he 
looks  never  to  himself  for  benefit  or  liurt,  but 
always  to  outward  tilings.  The  position  and 
character  of  the  philosopher  :  he  looks  for  bene- 
fit or  hurt  only  to  himself. 

2.  The  tokens  of  one  that  is  making  advance  : 
he  blames  none,  he  praises  none,  he  accuses  none, 
he  complains  of  none ;  he  speaks  never  of  him- 
self, as  being  somewhat,  or  as  knowing  aught. 
When  he  is  thwarted  or  hindered  in  aught,  he 
accuseth  himself.  If  one  should  praise  him,  he 
laughs  at  him  in  his  sleeve ;  if  one  should  blame 
bim,  be  makes  no  defence.    He  goes  about  lik§ 


180 


FPICTETUS. 


actions  are  done.  It  was  a  mighty  downfall, 
they  say,  for  Paris,  when  the  Greeks  came, 
and  when  they  sacked  Troy,  and  when  his 
brothers  perished.  J!^ot  so;  for  through  an- 
other's act  can  no  man  fall — that  was  the  sacking 
of  the  stork's  nests.  But  the  downfall  was  then 
when  he  lost  reverence  and  faith,  when  be  be- 
trayed hospitality  and  violated  decorum.  When 
was  the  fall  of  Achilles  ?  When  Patroclus  died  'i 
God  forbid ;  but  when  he  was  wrathful,  when  he 
bewept  the  loss  of  his  girl,  when  he  forgot  that  he 
was  there  not  to  win  mistresses  but  to  make  war. 
These,  for  men,  are  downfall  and  storming  and 
overthrow,  when  right  opinions  are  demolished 
or  depraved. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THAT   THE    PHILOSOPHER    SHALL    EXHTBir    TO   THE 
VULGAR   DEEDS,    NOT   WOEDS. 

1.  Thou  shalt  never  proclaim  thyself  a  philoso- 
pher, nor  speak  much  among  the  vulgar  of  the 
philosophic  maxims ;  but  do  the  tilings  that  fol- 
low from  tlie  maxims.  For  example,  do  not 
discourse  at  a  feast  upon  how  one  ought  to  eat, 
but  eat  as  one  ought.  For  remember  that  even 
80  Socrates  everywhere  banished  ostentation,  so 
that  men  used  to  come  to  him  desiring  that  he 
would  recommend  them  to  teachers  of  philoso- 
phy, and  he  brought  them  away  and  did  so,  so 
well  did  he  bear  to  be  overlooked. 

2.  And  if  among  the  vulgar  discourse  should 
arise  concerning  some  maxim  of  thy  philosophy, 
do  thou  for  the  most  part,  keep  silence,  for  there 
is  great  risk  that  thou  straightway  vomit  up 
what  thoii  hast  not  digested.  And  when  some 
one  shall  say  to  thee,  T/tou  hiowest  naughty  and 
it  bites  thee  not,  then  know  that  thou  hast  begun 
the  work. 


ttl 


TOKENS. 


181 


3.  And  as  sheep  do  not  bring  their  food  to  the 
shepherds  to  show  how  much  they  have  eaten, 
but  digesting  inwardly  their  provender,  bear  out- 
w^ardly  wool  and  milk,  even  so  do  not  thou,  for 
the  most  part,  display  the  maxims  before  the 
vulgar,  but  rather  the  works  which  follow  from 
them  when  they  are  digested. 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

ASCESIS. 

When  you  have  adapted  the  body  to  a  frugal 
way  of  living,  do  not  flatter  yourself  on  that,  nor 
if  you  drink  only  water,  say,  on  every  opportu- 
nity, /  drink  only  water.  And  if  you  desire  at 
any  time  to  inure  yourself  to  labor  and  endur 
ance,  do  it  to  yourself  and  not  unto  the  world. 
And  do  not  embrace  the  statues  ;  but  some  time 
when  you  are  exceedingly  thirsty  take  a  mouth- 
ful of  cold  water,  and  spit  it  out,  and  say  noth- 
ingr  about  it. 


CHAPTER  XI_. 

TOKENS. 

1.  The  position  and  token  of  the  vulgar :  he 
looks  never  to  himself  for  benefit  or  hurt,  but 
always  to  outward  tilings.  The  position  and 
character  of  the  philosopher  :  he  looks  for  bene- 
fit or  hurt  only  to  himself. 

2.  The  tokens  of  one  that  is  making  advance  : 
he  blames  none,  he  praises  none,  he  accuses  none, 
he  complains  of  none ;  he  speaks  never  of  him- 
self, as  being  somewhat,  or  as  knowing  aught. 
When  he  is  thwarted  or  hindered  in  aught,  he 
accuseth  himself.  If  one  should  praise  him,  he 
laughs  at  him  in  his  sleeve ;  if  one  should  blame 
})im,  he  makes  no  defence.    He  goes  about  lik? 


* 


"mi : 


182  EPICTETUS. 

the  sick  and  feeble,  fearing  to  move  the  parts 
that  are  settling  together  before  they  have  fa;  Ken 
hold  He  hath  taken  out  of  himself  all  pursiut, 
and  hath  turned  all  avoidance  to  things  m  our 
power  which  are  contrary  to  nature,  loward 
all  things  he  will  keep  his  inclination  slack  it 
he  is  thought  foolish  or  unlearned,  he  regardeth 
it  not.  In  a  word,  he  watches  himself  as  lie 
would  a  treacherous  enemy. 


GRAMMARIAN  OR  SAGE. 


183 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THAT  THE   LOGICAL  ART  IS  NECES8ABY. 

1.  Since  Reason  is  that  by  which  all  other 
thino-8  are  organized  and  perfected,^  it  is  nieet 
thatltself  should  not  remain  unorganized.  But 
by  what  shall  it  be  organized  ?  For  it  is  clear 
that  this  must  be  either  by  itself  or  by  some  other 
thing.  But  this  must  be  Reason ;  or  sonietluug 
else  which  is  greater  than  Reason,  which  is  im- 
possible. ,      ,   , 

2.  "  Yea,"  one  may  say,  "but  it  is  more  press- 
in"'  to  cure  our  vices,  and  the  like." 

'You  desire,  then,  to  hear  something  of  these 
things  ?  Hear  then  ;  but  if  yon  shall  say  to  me, 
I  know  not  if  you  are  reasoning  truly  or  falsely  ? 
or  if  I  utter  some  ambiguous  statement,  and  you 
shall  say  bid  me  distinguish,  shall  I  lose  patience 
with  you  and  tell  you.  It  is  more  j^resstng  to  cure 
our  vices  that  chop  logic  ? 

3.  In  this  reason  I  think  the  logical  arts  are  set 
at  tiie  beginning  of  our  study,  even  as  before  the 
measuring  of  corn  we  set  the  examination  of  the 
measure.  For  unless  we  shall  first  establish 
what  is  a  modius  ^  and  what  is  a  balance,  how 
shall  we  be  able  to  measure  or  weigh  anything  i 

4.  In  this  case,  then,  if  you  have  not  under- 
stood and  accurately  investigated  the  criterion  of 
^  other  things,  and  that  tbrough  which  thej? 


are  understood,  shall  we  be  able  to  investigate 
and  understand  anything  else?  and  how  could 
we  ?  Yea,  hut  a  inodius  is  a  wooden  thing,  and 
harren.  But  it  measures  corn.  And  logic  is 
also  harren.  As  regards  this,  indeed,  we  shall 
see.  But  even  if  one  should  grant  this,  it  suf- 
ficeth  that  logic  is  that  which  distinguishes  and 
investigates  other  things,  and,  as  one  may  say, 
measures  and  weiglis  them.  Who  saith  these 
things?  is  it  Chrysippns  alone  and  Zeno  and 
Cleanthes?  but  doth  not  Antistenes^  say  it? 
And  who  wrote  tliat  the  investigation  of  terms 
is  the  beginning  of  education  ? — was  it  not  Soc- 
rates ?  and  of  whom  doth  Xenophon  write  that 
he  began  with  the  investigation  of  terms,  what 
each  of  them  signified  ? 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


OEAMMAEIAN   OB  SAGE. 


When  some  one  mav  exalt  himself  in  that  he 
is  able  to  understand  and  expound  the  works  of 
Chrysippus,  say  then,  to  thyself:  If  Chrysippns 
had  not  written  obscurely,  this  man  would  have 
had  nothing  whereon  to  exalt  himself.  But  I, 
what  do  I  desire  ?  Is  it  not  to  learn  to  under- 
stand Nature  and  to  follow  her?  I  inquire, 
then,  who  can  expound  Nature  to  me,  and  hear- 
ing that  Chrysippns  can,  I  betake  myself  to  him. 
But  I  do  not  understand  his  writings,  therefore 
I  seek  an  expounder  for  them.  And  so  far  there 
is  nothing  exalted.  But  when  I  have  found  the 
expounder,  it  remaineth  for  me  to  put  in  prac- 
tice what  he  declares  to  me,  and  in  this  alone  is 
there  anything  exalted.  But  if  I  shall  admire 
the  bare  exposition,  what  else  have  I  made  of 
myself  than  a  grammarian  instead  of  a  philoso- 
pher, save,  indeed,  that  the  exposition  is  of 
Ohrysippus  and  not  of  Homer  ?    When,  there- 


184 


EPICTETUS, 


fore,  one  may  ask  me  to  lecture  on  the  philoso- 
phy of  Chrysippus,  I  shall  rather  blush  when  I 
am  not  able  to  show  forth  works  of  a  like  nature 
and  in  harmony  with  the  words. 


CHAPTER  XXIL 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


1.  The  clearer  be  the  characters  in  which  a 
book  is  writ,  the  more  pleasantly  and  conven- 
iently shall  any  man  read  it.  Thus  also  a  man 
shall  listen  more  conveniently  to  any  discourse 
if  it  be  conveyed  in  well-ordered  and  graceful 
words.  Be  it  not  said,  then,  that  there  is  no 
faculty  of  expression,  for  this  is  the  thought  of 
a  man  both  impious  and  cowardly^ — impious, 
for  he  holds  in  disesteem  the  gracious  gifts  of 
God,  as  if  he  would  take  away  the  serviceable 
faculty  of  seeing,  or  of  hearing,  or  of  the  very 
speaking  itself.  Did  God  give  tliee  eyes  for 
nothing?  And  was  it  for  nothing  that  He 
mingled  in  them  a  spirit  of  such  might  and  cun- 
ning as  to  reach  a  long  way  oflE  and  receive  the 
impression  of  visible  forms — a  messenger  so 
swift  and  faithful?  Was  it  for  nothing  that 
He  gave  the  intervening  air  such  efficacy,  and 
made  it  elastic,  so  that  being,  in  a  manner, 
strained,^  our  vision  should  traverse  it  ?  Was  it 
for  nothing  that  He  made  Light,  without  w^hich 
there  was  no  benefit  of  any  other  thing  ? 

2.  Man,  be  not  unthankful  for  these  things, 
nor  yet  unmindful  of  better  things.  For  seeing 
and  hearing,  and,  by  Zeus,  for  life  itself,  and  tlie 
things  that  work  togetlier  to  maintain  it,  for 
dried  fruits,  for  wine,  for  oil,  do  thou  give 
thanks  to  God.  But  remember  that  He  hath 
given  thee  another  thing  which  is  better  than  all 
these — that,  namely,  which  uses  them,  which 
approves  them,  which   taketh  account  of  the 


i\\ 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 


185 


worth  of  each.  For  what  is  that  which  declar- 
eth  concerning  all  these  faculties  how  much  each 
of  them  is  worth?  Is  it  the  faculty  itself? 
Heard  you  ever  the  faculty  of  vision  tell  aught 
concerning  itself  ?  or  tliat  of  hearing?  or  wlieat, 
or  barley,  or  a  horse,  or  a  dog  ?  Nay,  but  as 
ministers  and  slaves  are  they  appointed,  to  serve 
the  faculty  which  makes  use  of  appearances. 
And  if  you  would  learn  how  much  any  of  them 
is  worth,  of  whom  will  you  inquire  ?  who  shall 
give  answer?  How  then  shall  any  other  faculty 
be  greater  than  this,  which  both  useth  the  others 
as  its  servants,  and  the  same  approveth  each  of 
tliem  and  declareth  concerning  them?  For 
which  of  them  knoweth  what  itself  is,  and  what 
it  is  worth?  Which  of  them  knoweth  when  it 
behoves  to  make  use  of  it,  and  when  not  ?  What 
is  that  which  openeth  and  closeth  the  eyes,  turn- 
ing them  away  from  things  which  they  should 
not  behold,  and  guiding  them  towards  other 
things  ?  Is  it  the  faculty  of  vision  ?  Nay,  but 
the  faculty  of  the  Will.  What  is  that  which 
closeth  and  openeth  the  ears  ? — that  in  obedience 
to  which  tliey  become  busy  and  curious,  or, 
again,  unmoved  by  what  they  hear?  Is  it  the 
faculty  of  hearing  ?    It  is  no  other  than  that  of 

the  Will. 

3.  Being  then  so  great  a  faculty,  and  set  over  all 
the  rest,  let  it  come  to  us  and  tell  us  that  the  best 
of  existing  things  is  the  flesh  !  Not  even  if  the 
flesh  itself  affirmed  that  it  was  the  best,  would 
any  man  have  patience  with  it.  Now  what  is  it, 
Epicurus,  which  declares  this  doctrine,  that  the 
flesh  is  best,  which  wrote  concerning  the  End  of 
Being,  and  on  Laws  of  Nature^  and  on  the 
Canon  of  Truth  .^— which  let  thy  beard  grow, 
which  wrote,  when  dying,  that  it  was  spending 
its  last  day  and  a  happy  one  ?  ^  Is  it  the  flesh 
or  the  Will  ?  Wilt  thou  affirm,  then,  that  thou 
hast  ought  better  than  the  Will  ?    Nay,  but  art 


n 


186 


EPICTETUS. 


tliou  not  mad — so  blind,  in  truth,  and  deaf  as 
thou  art  ? 

4.  What  then  ?  Shall  any  man  contemn  the 
other  faculties?  God  forbid!  Doth  any  man 
say  that  there  is  no  use  or  eminence  in  the  faculty 
of  eloquence  ?  God  forbid — that  were  senseless, 
impious,  thankless  towards  God.  But  to  each 
thing  its  true  worth.  For  there  is  a  certain  use 
in  an  ass,  but  not  so  much  as  in  an  ox  ;  and  in  a 
dog,  but  not  so  much  as  in  a  slave ;  and  in  a 
slave,  but  not  so  much  as  in  a  citizen  ;  and  in 
citizens,  but  not  so  much  as  in  governors.  Yet 
not  because  other  things  are  better  is  the  use 
which  anvthino;  affords  to  be  contemned.  There 
is  a  certain  worth  in  the  faculty  of  eloquence, 
but  not  so  much  as  in  the  Will.  When,  then,  I 
speak  thus,  let  no  man  deem  that  I  would  have 
you  neglect  the  power  of  eloquence,  for  I  would 
not  have  you  neglect  your  eyes,  or  ears,  or 
hands,  or  feet,  or  raiment,  or  shoes.  But  if  one 
ask  me  which  is,  then,  the  best  of  existing 
things,  what  shall  I  say  ?  The  faculty  of  elo- 
quence I  cannot  say,  but  that  of  the  Will,  when  it 
is  made  right.  For  this  is  that  which  useth  the 
other,  and  all  the  other  faculties,  both  small 
and  great.  When  this  is  set  right,  a  man  that 
was  not  good  becomes  good ;  wlien  it  is  not 
right,  the"  man  becomes  evil.  This  is  that 
whereby  we  fail  or  prosper — whereby  we  blame 
others,  or  approve  tliem  ;  the  neglect  of  which 
is  the  misery,  and  the  care  of  it  the  happiness, 
of  mankind. 

5.  But  to  take  away  the  faculty  of  eloquence, 
and  to  say  that  there  is  in  truth  no  such  faculty, 
is  not  only  the  part  of  a  thankless  man  toward 
Him  who  hath  given  it,  but  also  of  a  cowardly. 
For  such  a  one  seemeth  to  me  to  fear  lest  if 
there  be  any  faculty  in  this  kind  we  shall  not  be 
able  to  despise  it.  Such  are  they  also  which  say 
that  there  is  no  difference  between  beauty  and 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS, 


m 


ngliness.  Then  were  a  man  to  be  affected  in 
like  manner  on  seeing  Thersites  and  Achilles,  or 
on  seeing  Helen  and  any  common  woman?* 
Truly,  a  thought  of  fools  and  boors,  and  of  men 
who  know  not  the  nature  of  each  thing,  but  fear 
lest,  if  one  perceive  the  difference,  he  shall  be 
straightway  swept  away  and  overpowered  by  it. 
But  the  great  thing  is  this — to  leave  to  each  the 
faculty  that  it  hath,  and  so  leaving  it  to  scan  the 
worth  of  the  faculty,  and  to  learn  what  is  the 
greatest  of  existing  things ;  and  everywh^Te  to 
pursue  this,  and  be  zealous  about  this,  making 
all  other  things  accessory  to  this,  albeit,  accord- 
ing to  our  powers,  not  neglecting  even  these. 
For  of  the  eyes  also  must  we  take  care,  yet  not 
as  of  the  best  thing ;  yet  of  these,  too,  by  the 
very  exercise  of  the  best  thing  ;  since  that  shall 
in  no  other  wise  subsist  according  to  Nature  save 
by  wise  dealing  in  these  matters,  and  preferring 
certain  things  to  others. 

6.  But  what  is  done  in  the  world?  As  if  a 
man  journeying  to  his  own  country  should  pass 
by  an  excellent  inn,  and  the  inn  being  agreeable 
to  him,  should  stay,  and  abide  in  it.  Man,  thou 
hast  forgotten  thy  purpose ;  thy  journeying  was 
not  for  this,  but  through  this.  But  this  is  pleas- 
ant. And  how  many  other  inns  are  pleasant, 
and  how  many  meadows  ?  yet  merely  for  pass- 
ing through.  But  thy  business  is  this,  to  arrive 
in  thy  native  country,  to  remove  the  fears  of 
thy  kinsfolk,  to  do,  thyself,  the  duties  of  a  citizen, 
to  marry,  to  beget  children,  to  lill  the  custom- 
ary offices.  For  thou  art  not  come  into  this 
world  to  choose  out  its  pleasanter  places,  but 
to  dwell  in  those  where  thou  wast  born,  and 
whereof  thou  wast  appointed  to  be  a  citizen. 
And  so  in  some  wise  it  is  with  this  matter. 
Since,  by  the  aid  of  speech  and  such  like  deliver- 
ance, we  must  come  to  our  aim,  and  purify  the 
Will,  and  order  aright  the  faculty  which  makes 


1^ 


lEPlCTETm. 


"11!" 


nse  of  appearances ;  and  it  is  necessary  that  this 
deliverance  of  the  doctrines  come  to  pass  by  a 
certain  use  of  speech,  and  with  a  certain  art 
and  sharpness  of  expression,  there  are  some  whicli 
are  taken  captive  by  these  things  themselves, 
and  abide  in  them— one  in  the  gift  of  speech, 
one  in  syllogisms,  one  in  sophisms,  one  in  some 
such  another  of  these  isms  ;  and  there  they  ling- 
er and  moulder  away,  as  though  they  were  fallen 
among  the  Sirens. 

7.  Man,  thy  business  was  to  make  thyself  fit  to 
use  the  appearances  that  encounter  thee  according 
to  Nature,  not  missing  what  thou  pursuest,  nor 
falling  into  what  thou  wouldst  avoid,  never  fail- 
ing of  good  fortune,  nor  overtaken  of  ill  fortune, 
free,  unhindered,  uncompelled,  agreeing  with 
the  governance  of  Zeus,  obedient  unto  the  same, 
and  well-pleased  therein ;  blaming  none,  charg- 
ing none,  able  of  thy  whole  soul  to  utter  those 
lines : — 

*•  Lead  me,  O  Zeus,  and  thou,  Destiny  ! " 

Then,  having  this  for  thy  business,  if  some  little 
matter  of  eloquence  please  thee,  or  certain  specula- 
tions, wilt  thou  stay  and  abide  in  them,  and  elect 
to  settle  in  them,  forgetting  all  that  is  at  home? 
and  wilt  thou  say,  I'hese  thiiigs  are  admiraUe  ? 
Who  saith  they  are  not  admirable?  but  for 
passing  through,  like  inns.  What  should  hinder 
one  that  spoke  like  Demosthenes  to  be  unfor- 
tunate ?  or  one  that  could  resolve  syllogisms 
like  Chrysippus  to  be  miserable,  to  grieve,  to 
envy  ;  in  a  w^ord,  to  be  troubled  and  unhappy  ? 
Nothing.  Thou  seest  now  that  all  these  things 
are  but  inns,  and  of  no  worth ;  but  our  business 
was  another  thing.  When  I  say  these  things  to 
certain  persons,  they  think  I  am  rejecting  all 
care  about  language  or  speculation.  But  I  do 
not  reject  this ;  I  reject  the  endless  occupation 
with  them,  the  putting  our  hopes  in  them.     If  a 


now  Lom  f 


189 


man  by  this  teaching  injureth  those  who  hear  him, 
reckon  me  also  among  those  who  do  this  injur3\ 
For  I  cannot  in  order  to  please  you,  see  that  one 
thing  is  best  and  chief  of  all,  and  say  that  an- 
other is.^ 


.  CHAPTER  XXIII. 

CONSTANCY. 

Abide  in  thy  purposes  as  in  laws  which-  it 
were  impious  to  transgress.  And  whatsoever 
any  man  may  say  of  thee,  regard  it  not;  for 
neither  is  this  anything  of  thine  own. 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

HOW   LONG? 

1.  How  long  wilt  thou  delay  to  hold  thyself 
worthy  of  the  best  things,  and  to  transgress  in 
nothing  the  decrees  of  Reason  ?  Thou  hast 
received  the  maxims  by  which  it  behoves 
thee  to  live ;  and  dost  thou  live  by  them  ? 
What  teacher  dost  thou  still  look  for  to  whom 
to  hand  over  the  task  of  thy  correction  ? 
Thou  art  no  longer  a  boy,  but  already  a  man 
full  grown.  If,  then,  thou  art  neglectful  and 
sluggish,  and  ever  making  resolve  after  resolve, 
and  fixing  one  day  after  another  on  which  tliou 
wilt  begin  to  attend  to  thyself,  thou  wilt  forget 
that  thou  art  making  no  advance,  but  wilt  go  on 
as  one  of  the  vulgar  sort,  both  living  and  dying. 

2.  Now,  at  last,  therefore  hold  thyself  worthy 
to  live  as  a  man  of  full  age  and  one  who  is  press- 
ing forward,  and  let  everything  that  appeareth 
the  best  be  to  thee  as  an  inviolable  law.  And  if 
any  toil  or  pleasure  or  reputation  or  the  loss  of 
it  be  laid  upon  thee,  renember  that  now  is  the 
contest,  here  already  are  the  Olympian  games, 
and  there  is  no  deferring  them  any  longer,  and 
that  in  a  single  day  and  in  a  single  trial  ground 
is  to  be  lost  or  gained. 


'I 


ido 


EPICTETUS. 


3.  It  was  thus  that  Socrates  made  himself 
what  he  was,  in  all  things  that  befell  him  having 
regard  to  no  other  thing  than  Reason.  But  thou, 
albeit  thou  be  yet  no  Socrates,  yet  as  one  that 
would  be  Socrates,  so  it  behoveth  thee  to  live. 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

PARTS  OF    PHILOSOPHY. 

•  1.  The  first  and  most  necessary  point  in  phi- 
losophy is  the  use  of  the  precepts,  for  example, 
not  to  lie.  The  second  is  the  proof  of  these,  as, 
whence  it  comes  that  it  is  wrong  to  lie.  The  third 
is  that  which  giveth  confirmation  and  coherence 
to  the  others,  such  as,  Whence  it  comes  that  this 
is  proof?  for  what  is  proof?  what  is  conse- 
quence ?  what  is  contradiction  ?  what  is  truth  ? 
what  is  falsehood  ? 

2.  Thus  the  third  point  is  necessary  through 
the  second,  and  the  second  through  the  first. 
But  the  most  necessary  of  all,  and  that  when  we 
should  rest,  is  the  first.  But  we  do  the  contrary. 
For  we  linger  on  the  third  point,  and  spend  all 
our  zeal  on  that,  while  of  the  first  we  are  utterly 
neglectful,  and  thus  we  are  liars ;  but  the  ex- 
planation of  how  it  is  shown  to  be  wrong  to  lie 
we  have  ever  ready  to  hand. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MEMORABILIA. 

Hold  in  readiness  for  every  need,  these — 

**Lead  me,  O  Zeus,  and  thou  Destiny,  whithersoever  ye 
have  appointed  me  to  go,  and  may  I  follow  fearlessly.  But 
if  in  an  evil  mind  I  be  unwilling,  still  must  I  follow." 

**That  man  is  wise  among  us,  and  hath  understanding 
of  things  divine,  who  hath  nobly  agreed  with  Necessity." 

But  the  third  also — 

*'0  Crito,  if  so  it  seem  good  to  the  Gods  so  let  it  be. 
Anytus  and  Meletus  are  able  to  kill  me  indeed,  but  to 
harm  me,  never.  "^ 

THE    END. 


NOTES. 


CLEANTHES'  HYMN  TO  ZEUS. 

1.  Professor  Mahaffy,  in  his  Greek  Life  and  Thought, 
quotes  the  full  text  of  this  noble  Hymn,  which,  he  thinks, 
*' would  alone  redeem  the  Hellenistic  age,  as  it  stands 
before  us,  from  the  charge  of  mere  artificiality  and 
pedantry." 

BOOK  I. 

Chapteb  I. 

1.  **  Enter  by  the  door  "  (cf.  S.  John,  x.  1).  The  paral- 
lelisms in  thought  and  expression  between  Epictetus  and 
the  New  Testament  have  often  been  noticed,  and  the 
reader  \vill  discover  many  otheri^,  to  which  I  have  not 
thought  it  necessary  to  draw  attention. 

2.  •*  Conceit :"  Einhildung. 

3.  **  To  be  elated."  One  might  translate,  *'  to  be  puffed 
up,"  except  that  that  expression  is  only  used  in  a  bad 
sense,  and  one  may  be  ' '  elated  "  in  anything  that  is  truly 
of  the  nature  of  the  good.  The  Stoics  distinguished  be- 
tween joy  and  pleasure;  not  rejecting  or  despising  the 
former. 

Chapter  H. 

1.  A  fundamental  distinction  in  the  Epictetean  system, 
which  he  sometimes  expresses  by  the  phrases,  things  that 
are  our  own  and  things  that  belong  to  others ;  or  things 
that  are  our  proper  concern,  and  things  that  are  alien  to  us. 

2.  On  the  Mons  Palatinus  in  Rome  there  stood  a  temple 
to  Fever.  Upton  quotes  from  Gruter,  p.  xcvii.,  an  inter- 
esting inscription  to  this  divinity :  Febri.  Divae.  Febri. 
Sanctse.  Febri.  Magna?.  Camilla.  Amata.  Pro.  Filio.  Ma!c. 
Affecto.  P. 

Chapter  IH. 

1.  There  is  excellent  MS.  authority  for  this  reading  of 
the  passage,  which,  however,  is  not  Schweighauser's.  The 
latter  reads:  **Be  content  with  them,  and  pray  to  the 
Gods." 

2.  **  Steward  of  the  winds."  A  quotation  from  Homer, 
Od.  X.  21. 

Chapter  IV. 

1.  **  Through  not  being  dazzled,"  etc.  4w  tas  hulas  m§ 
thaumasei,  * 


192 


NOTES. 


Chapter  VI. 

1.  Note  that  in  this  passage  the  words  '*  God,"  and  **  the 
Gods  "  and  '*  the  Divine,"  are  all  synonymous  terms. 

2.  Or  *' of  names." 

3.  Some  texts  add  **  such  as  Good  or  Evil." 

Chapter  VII. 

1.  Apparently  a  proverb,  which  may  be  paralleled  in  its 
present  application  by  Luther*s  **  Pecca  for  titer." 

2.  A  complex  or  conjunctive  proposition  is  one  which 
contains  several  assertions  so  united  as  to  form  a  single 
statement  which  will  be  false  if  any  one  of  its  parts  is  false 
— e.g.,  **  Brutus  was  the  lover  and  destroyer  both  of  Caesar 
and  of  his  country."  The  disjunctive  is  when  alternative 
propositions  are  made,  as  **  Pleasure  is  either  good  or  bad, 
or  neither  good  nor  bad." 

3.  I  have  followed  Lord  Shaftesbury's  explanation  of 
this  passage,  which  the  other  commentators  have  given  up 
as  corrupt.  It  seems  clear  that  whether  the  passage  can 
stand  exactly  in  the  form  in  which  we  have  it,  or  not.  Lord 
Shaftesbury's  rendering  represents  what  Epictetus  origi- 
nally conveyed. 

4.  According  to  the  usual  reading,  a  scornful  exclama- 
tion— **  Thou  exhort  them  ! "  I  have  followed  the  reading 
recommended  by  Schw.  in  his  notes,  although  he  does  not 
adopt  it  in  his  text. 

Chapter  VIII. 

1.  The  founder  of  the  Cynic  school  was  Antisthenes,who 
taught  in  the  gymnasium  named  the  Cynosarges,  at  Athens; 
whence  the  name  of  his  school.  Zeller  takes  this  striking 
chapter  to  contain  Epictetus's  **philosophisches  Ideal," 
the  Cynic  being  the  **  wahrer  Philosoph,"  or  perfect  Stoic. 
(Phil.  d.  Gr.  iii.  S.  752.)  This  view  seems  to  me  no  more 
true  than  that  the  missionary  or  monk  is  to  be  considered 
the  ideal  Christian.  Epictetus  takes  pains  to  make  it  clear 
that  the  Cynic  is  a  Stoic  with  a  special  and  separate  voca- 
tion, which  all  Stoics  are  by  no  means  called  upon  to  take 
up.  Like  Thoreau,  that  modern  Stoic,  when  he  went  to 
live  at  Walden,  the  Cynic  tries  the  extreme  of  abnegation 
in  order  to  demonstrate  practically  that  man  has  resources 
within  himself  which  make  him  equal  to  any  fate  that  cir- 
cumstances can  inflict. 

2.  A  coarse  garment  especially  affected  by  the  Cynics,  as 
also  by  the  early  Christian  ascetics. 

3.  **Nor  pity."  Upton,  in  a  note  on  Diss,  i.,  18.  3. 
(Schw.)  refers  to  various  passages  in  Epictetus  where  pity 
and  envy  are  mentioned  together  as  though  thejr  were 
related  emotions,  and  aptly  quotes  Virgil  (Georg.  ii.,  499): 

**  Aut  doluit  miserans  inopem,  aut  invidit  habenti." 

It  will  be  clear  to  any  careful  reader  that  when  Epictetus 


NOTES. 


1^3 


asserts  that  certain  emotions  or  acts  are  unworthy  of  a  man, 
he  constantly  means  the  "  man"  to  be  understood  as  his 
highest  spiritual  faculty,  his  deepest  sense  of  reason,  his 
soul.  That  we  are  not  to  pity  or  grieve  means  that  that 
side  of  us  which  is  related  to  the  divine  and  eternal  is  not 
to  be  affected  by  emotions  produced  by  calamities  in  mere 
outward  and  material  things.  St.  Augustine  corroborates 
this  view  in  an  interesting  passage  bearing  on  the  Stoic 
doctrine  of  pity  (De  Civ.  Dei.  ix.  5  ;  Schw.  iv.  132): — 

**  Misericord iam  Cicero  non  dubitavit  appellare  virtutem, 
quam  Stoicos  inter  vitia  uumerare  non  pudet,  qui  tamen, 
ut  docuit  liber  Epicteti  nobilissimi  Stoici  ex  decretia 
Zenonis  et  Chrysippi,  qui  hujus  sectae  primas  partes  habue- 
runt,  hujuscemodi  passiones  in  animum  Sapientis  admit- 
tunt,  quern  vitiis  omnibus  liberam  esse  volunt.  Unde  fit 
consequens,  ut  lisec  ipsa  non  putent  vitia,  quando  Sapienti 
sic  acciduut,  ut  contra  virtutem  mentis  rationemque  nihil 
possunt." 

The  particular  utterances  of  Epictetus  here  alluded  toby 
St.  Augustine  must  have  been  contained  in  some  of  the 
lost  books  of  the  Dissertations,  as  nothing  like  them  is  to 
be  found  explicitly  in  those  which  survive,  although  the 
latter  afford  us  abundant  means  for  deducing  the  conclu- 
sion which  St.  Augustine  confirms. 

4.  This  cake  seems  to  form  a  ridiculous  anti-climax.  But 
it  appears  to  have  been  a  vexed  question  in  antiquity 
whether  an  ascetic  philosopher  might  indulge  in  this  par- 
ticular luxury.  Upton  quotes  Lucian  and  Dio^jenes  Laer- 
tius  for  instances  of  this  question  being  propounded,  and 
an  aftirmative  answer  given  (in  one  instance  by  the  Cynic, 
Diogenes).  The  youth  in  the  text  is  being  addressed  as  a 
novice  who  must  not  use  the  freedom  of  an  adept. 

5.  Upton  quotes  from  Cymbeliue  : — 

'*  Hath  Britain  all  the  sun  that  shines  ?    Day,  night, 
Art  they  not,  but  in  Britain  ?    Prythee,  think, 
There's  living  out  of  Britain  !  " 

But  Epictetus  means  more  than  this  in  his  allusion  to  sun 
and  stars.  See  Preface,  xxiv.  This  passage  would  lead 
us  to  suppose  that  Epictetus  believed  in  a  personal  exist- 
ence continued  for  some  time  after  death.  In  the  end, 
however,  even  sun  and  stars  shall  vanish.    See  ii.  13,  4. 

6.  Being  arrested  by  Philip's  people,  and  asked  if  he 
were  a  spy,  Diogenes  replied,  "  Certainly  I  am,  O  Philip  ; 
a  spy  of  thine  ill-counsel  and  folly,  who  for  no  necessity 
canst  set  thy  life  and  kingdom  on  the  chances  of  an  hour." 

7.  According  to  Upton's  conjecture,  these  were  gladia- 
tors famous  for  bodily  strength  ;  and  also,  one  would  sus- 
pect, for  some  remarkable  calamity. 

8.  This  highly  crude  view  of  the  Trojan  war  might  have 
been  refuted  out  of  the  mouth  of  Epictetus  himself.  Evil- 
doers are  not  to  be  allowed  their  way  because  they  are  un- 


194 


NOTES, 


able  to  hurt  our  souls,  but  the  hurt  may  be  in  the  coward 
ice  or  sloth  that  will  not  punish  them. 

9.  By  wearing  his  cloak  half  falling  off,  in  negligent 
fashion.  Nothing  is  finer  or  more  characteristic  in  Epic- 
tetus  than  his  angry  scorn  of  the  pseudo-Stoics  of  his  day. 

10.  The  allusion  evidently  is  to  the  genius  or  divine 
spirit  by  which  Socrates  felt  himself  guided. 

11.  Crates  was  a  disciple  of  Diogenes.  His  wife  was 
named  Hipparchia.  Upton  quotes  Slenander  {apud  Diog. 
I/.),  **  Thou  wilt  walk  about  with  me  in  a  cloak  as  once 
did  his  wife  with  Crates  the  Cynic." 

12.  Danatis.  father  of  the  fifty  Danaidse.  ^olus  is  men- 
tioned in  Od.  X.  as  having  six  sons  and  six  daughters. 

13.  n.,  xxi.  69.  ,  .      .V    i.  , 

14.  That  is,  he  capped  the  quotation  by  quoting  the  fol- 
lowing line  {11,  ii.  24,  25).  Not  a  very  striking  intellectual 
effort ;  but  Epictetus  evidently  considered  it  a  meritorious 
thing  to  know  Homer  well  enough  to  quote  him  in  one's 
sleep,  and  he  was  right. 

15.  From  a  poem  of  Cleanthes. 

BOOK  II. 

Chapter  I. 

1.  According  to  the  view  of  James  Harris,  in  a  long  and 
valuable  note  communicated  to  Upton,  the  '*  master-argu- 
ment "  was  so  called  from  the  supreme  importance  of  the 
issues  with  which  it  dealt.  On  these  issues  different 
leaders  of  the  Stoics  took  different  sides,  Diodorus  holding 
both  future  and  past  things  to  be  necessary,  Cleanthes 
both  contingent,  and  Chrysippus  past  things  to  be  neces- 
sary and  future  contingent.  Any  two  of  the  three  propo- 
sitions mentioned  in  the  text  excludes  the  third.  For 
modern  philosophy  the  distinction  between  the  possible  and 
the  certain  in  the  phenomenal  world  has,  of  course,  no  real 
existence  ;  the  possible  being  simply  that  of  which  we  do 
not  know  whether  it  will  come  to  pass  or  not. 

2.  Of  course  Epictetus  here  speaks  ironically  :  all  this  is 
just  what  it  is  the  business  of  a  thinker  to  do. 

3.  Epictetus,  I  suppose,  means  to  complain  that  the  cur- 
rent phrases  of  philosophy  are  dealt  out  in  glib  answer  to 
great  ethical  questions,  just  as  Homer  might  be  quoted  for 
lin  event  in  the  life  of  Odysseus,  by  persons  who  in  neither 
case  think  of  gaining  that  vital  conviction  which  only  the 
strenuous  exercise  of  one's  own  reason  can  produce.  A 
little  later  he  represents  Hellanicus,  the  historian,  as  quoted 
on  the  distinction  between  good  and  evil,  who  never 
treated  that  subject.  If  it  is  to  be  a  mere  question  of 
authority,  one  name  is  as  good  as  another,  since  none  is 
fkuy  us(3  at  all. 

**  Indifferent,"  be  it  observed,  is  morally  indifferent— 


NOTES. 


195 


that  which  has  in  itself  no  bearing  on  our  moral  state. 
See  Chap.  II.  2. 

4.  The  followers  of  Aristotle  called  themselves  Peri- 
patetics. 

Chapter  II. 

1.  The  word  in  the  Greek  is  literally  circumstances,  but 
the  word  is  evidently  used  in  a  bad  sense,  as  equivalent  to 
afflictions.  Doom  is  likewise  etymologically  a  neutral 
word,  but  one  which  has  received  an  evil  meaning. 

2.  Socrates's  faith  in  his  genius  or  '*  Daemon  "  was  well 
known.  In  this  passage  from  his  Apologia  (which  Epic- 
tetus gives  from  a  bad  text),  it  is  doubtless  the  manner 
onl}^  that  conveyed  the  idea  of  mockery.  Neither  Socrates 
nor  any  one  else  ever  had  better  evidence  of  God's  existence 
than  His  voice  in  our  conscience. 

Chapter  IV. 

1.  Briefly,  the  three  divisions  seem  to  be  Action,  Char- 
acter, and  Judgment.  The  last  is  to  be  approached 
through  training  in  logic,  in  the  penetration  of  fallacies, 
etc.,  by  which  means  a  man  is  to  arrive  at  such  an  inward 
and  vital  conviction  of  the  truth  that  he  can  never  for  a 
moment  be  taken  off  his  guard  by  the  delusion  of  Appear- 
ance. 

2.  Passions,  passionless. — See  Index  of  Philosophic 
Terms. 

Chapter  V. 

1.  Euripides. — Musonius  Kufus,  the  teacher  of  Epic- 
tetus, is  reported  to  have  said,  *'  Take  the  chance  of  dying 
nobly  when  thou  canst,  lest  after  i\  little  death  indeed 
come  to  thee,  but  a  noble  death  no  more." 

2.  This  phrase  of  the  **  open  door"  occurs  frequently  in 
Epictetus,  usually  when,  as  here,  he  is  telling  the  average 
nonphilosophic  man  that  it  is  unmanly  to  complain  of  a 
life  which  he  can  at  any  time  relinquish.  The  philosopher 
has  no  need  of  such  exhortation,  for  he  does  not  complain, 
and  as  for  death,  is  content  to  wait  God's  time.  But  the 
Stoics  taught  that  the  arrival  of  this  time  might  be  indi- 
cated by  some  disaster  or  affliction  which  rendered  a  nat- 
ural and  wholesome  life  impossible.  Self-destruction  was 
in  such  cases  permissible,  and  is  recorded  to  have  been 
adopted  by  several  leaders  of  the  Stoics,  generally  when 
old  age  had  begun  to  render  them  a  burden  to  their  friends. 

3.  Nay,  thou  shalt  eocist,  etc. — This  is  the  sense  given 
by  Zellers  punctuation.  Schweighauser's  text  would  be 
rendered,  '*  Thou  shalt  not  exist,  but  something  else  will," 
etc.  Upton  changes  the  text  (on  his  own  authority)  by 
transposing  a  word.  "  Thoa  shalt  exist,  but  as  something 
else,  whereof  the  universe  has  now  no  need." 

4.  This  does  not  appear  to  have  been  the  law  in  Epic- 


0 


196 


NOTES. 


tetus  8  time,  for  he  himself  was  educated  while  a  slave 
K    r^^  ^  common  provision  in  antique  states 
0.  Ihe  ceremony  in  manumitting  a  slave. 

Chapter  VI. 

♦1  ^'t^^^^P-  VI.  i.  is  a  passage  from  the  lost  Fifth  Book  of 
the  Discourees  preserved  for  us  in  a  rather  obscure  Latin 
translation  by  Aulus  Gellius.  During  a  storm  at  s^a  a 
certain  Stoic  on  board  was  observed  by  him  to  look  Dale 
and  anxious,  though  not  indeed  showing  the  si^ns  of  Danic 
exhibited  by  the  other  passengers.  Quistioned  afterwards 
by  Gelhus  on  this  apparent  feebleness  in  his  professed  faith 
the  Stoic  produced  the  Fifth  Book  of  Epictetus,  and  read 
mis  passage. 

^.\  w^/^^""?  Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  an  enthusiastic  student 
of  Epictetus,  had  this  dish  of  water  and  ray  of  liffht  en 
graved,  and  placed,  with  the  inscription,  All  is  Opinion-^ 
as  an  emblem  at  the  front  of  his  Characteristics     The 
passage,  though  interesting,  is  obscure.    At  one  tiiiie  the 
appearances, '  are  compared  to  the  ray  of  liffht  •  at  an 
other,  the  doctrines  (literally  -  arts,''  i.e.,  arts  of  life  taught 
by  philosophy)  and  virtues     Probably  the  explanation  is 
to  be  found  m  the  view  pf  the  Stoics  that  at  birth  the 
Juman  soul  is  a  tabula  rasa,  or  blank  sheet;  all  our 
knowledge  coming  from  without ,  that  is,  from  the  -an- 
pearances    which  surround  us.    Moral  and  philosophic 
convictions  are  thus,  like  all  other  mental  states,  the  result 
of  external  impressions.  • 

Chapter  VII. 

*K^'fn^®f.u^^l^^f^^*^^^^^^°*^^^e<^  at  Athens  under 

mfio  i  .^^ '^''^^^^^•,  ^""^^^  ^^^^^  ^ays  it  produced 
little  except  logical  puzzles. 

A  ^;-  "  J!?u°^*  1^  indeed,  escaping  from  this  war,  we  were 
destmed  thereafter  to  an  ageless  and  deathless  life,  then 
neither  avou  d  I  fight  in  the  van  nor  set  thee  in  the  pi^ess  of 
glorious  battle  But  now,  since  death  in  a  thousand  kinds 
stands  everywhere  against  us,  which  no  man  shall  fly  from 

ho'i^  "^"^  "^a  ^"^  i,  ^^^,^^''  ^^  «^^"  ^^«  S^^^y  to  another,  or 
he  to  us."~S:irpedon's  speech,  Iliad  xii  322-^ 

S.  General  consent.-The  well-known  philosophic  doc- 
tnne,  that  what  all  men  unite  in  believing  must  be  true 

lo'-  ♦  a"^  ??,^^^^."  ^^en  made  the  basis  of  arguments 
against  Scepticism  in  various  forms. 

Chapter  Vm. 

1.  See  chap.  IV.  i. 

2.  He  drew  water  by  night  for  his  gardens,  and  studied 
philosophy  in  the  day.— Diogr.  Laert.     [Upton.] 

3.  A  most  characteristic  feature    of  the  whole  Stoic 
school  was  Its  treatment  of  ancient  mythology  and  legend 
i  hesc  things  were  closely  and  earnestly  studied,  wUh  i 


NOTES. 


197 


• 

constant  view  to  the  deeper  meanings  that  underlay  the 
vesture  of  fable,  an  attitude  which  contrasts  very  favorably 
with  Plato's  banishment  of  the  poets  from  his  Republic  for 
**  teaching  false  notions  about  the  Gods." 

Chapter  IX. 

1.  Gyara,  an  island  in  the  jEgean,  used  as  a  penal  set- 
tlement. 

Chapter  X. 

1.  The  captain  .  .  ,  the  dnver— literally,  "  to  him  who 
has  knowledge  "  (of  the  given  art). 

2.  Liberator.  The  person  appointed  by  law  to  carry  out 
the  ceremony  of  the  manumission  of  slaves. 

Chapter  XI. 

1.  This  chapter  seems  to  me  to  contain  a  truth  expressed 
so  baldly  and  crudely  as  to  appear  a  falsehood.  The  read- 
er's mind  will  be  fixed  upon  the  truth  or  falsehood  accord- 
ing as  he  is  or  is  not  capable  of  reading  Epictetus  with 
understanding. 

2.  This  earthen  lamp  was  sold,  according  to  Lucian,  at 
the  death  of  Epictetus  for  3,000  drachmae  (about  £120). 
— Adv.  Indoct.  13. 

Chapxer  XIII. 

1.  Parodying  a  verse  of  Euripides  on  the  stream  of  Dirce 
in  Boeotia.  The  Marcian  aqueduct  brought  water  to 
Rome. 

2.  I  adopt  Upton's  conjecture. 

Chapter  XVIII. 

1.  An  eminent  Cynic  (also  mentioned  by  Seneca  and 
Tacitus). 

Chapter  XXV. 

1.  This  is  the  reading  of  one  of  the  Christian  Para- 
phrases. The  other  versions  add  words  giving  the  sense 
**  from  things  in  which  we  do  not  differ  from  each  other." 
It  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  all  the  versions  of  Epictetus 
to  unite  in  a  manifestly  corrupt  reading,  and  though  in  this 
case  the  received  text  is  not  an  impossible  one,  I  have 
thought  myself  justified  in  following  the  variant  of  the 
Paraphrase. 

Chapter  XXVII. 

1.  There  is  an  allusion  to  this  curious  feature  of  the 
Olympic  contests  in  the  Fourth  Idyll  of  Theocritus.  Casau- 
bon  (Lect.  Theocr.  ad  Idyll.  4)  quoted  by  Schweighauser, 
in  his  note  on  this  passage  (Diss.  III.  xv.  4),  shows  from 
Festus  Pompeius  that  there  was  a  statue  in  the  Capitol  of 
a  youth  bearing  a  spade  after  the  manner  of  the  Olympic 
combatants. 


I 


198 


NOTES. 


2.  Euphrates,  a  Stoic  philosopher,  and  contemporary  of 
Epietetus.     He  was  tutor  of  Pliny,  the  younger. 

3.  The  pentathlos  contended  in  live  athletic  exercises — 
viz.,  running,  leaping,  throwing  the  quoit,  throwing  the 
javelin,  wrestling. 

4.  Much  of  this  must  refer  to  the  period  of  probation  or 
discipleship,  for  Epietetus  is  clear  that  the  ordinary  Stoic 
(who  had  not  embraced  the  special  mission  of  Cynicism) 
was  not  required  to  forsake  his  family,  or  his  affairs,  or  his 
duties  as  a  citizen,  nor  even  justified  in  doing  so. 


BOOK  III. 
Chapter  II. 

1.  The  hnsk  is,  of  course,  the  body.  If  it  is  maintained 
that  Nature  has  made  the  ease  of  this  our  only  proper  pur- 
suit, of  course  the  altruistic,  or  social  instincts,  have  to  be 
rejected  and  denied. 

2.  The  text  is  here  almost  certainly  corrupt.  The  exist- 
ing reading  might  give  the  sense,  '*  How  are  we,  then,  sus- 
picious of  those  (if  any  there  be)  to  whom  Nature  has  given 
no  affection  for  their  offspring  ?" 

3.  Outward  things — such  as  making  provision  for  one's 
family,  serving  the  State,  etc., — actions  which  are  not 
directly  concerned  with  our  spiritual  good. 

Chapter  III. 

1.  Phrygia,  the  birth-place  of  Epietetus,  was  one  of  the 
great  centres  of  the  wild  and  fearful  cult  of  Cybele,  whose 
priests  gashed  and  mutilated  themselves  in  the  excitement 
of  the  orgie. 

2.  Philosophy  is  brought  upon  the  scene,  speaking  first 
through  the.  mouth  of  a  Stoic,  afterwards  through  that  of 
an  Epicurean,  and  the  practical  results  of  each  system  are 
exhibited. 

3.  The  Athenians,  rather  than  submit  to  Xerxes,  aban- 
doned their  city  to  be  plundered,  and  took  to  their  fleet, 
the  victory  at  Salamis  rewarding  their  resolve. 

Those  who  died  at  Thermopylae  were  the  three  hundred 
Spartans  under  Leonidas,  who  held  the  pass  against  the 
Persian  host  till  all  were  slain.  Often  as  their  heroism  has 
been  celebrated,  perhaps  nothing  more  worthy  of  their 
valor  has  been  written  than  the  truly  laconic  epitaph  com- 
posed for  them  by  Simonides  : — 

*'  Stranger,  the  Spartans  bade  us  die  : 
Go,  tell  them,  thou,  that  here  we  lie." 

Chapter  IV. 

1.  The  sense  of  human  dignity  was  strong  in  Epietetus, 
and  he  would  have  it  practically  observed  in  men's  rela- 
tions with  each  other.    Compare  Ck,  v.  7.    Zeller  must 


NOTES. 


199 


have  overlooked  these  Fragments  of  Epietetus  when  he 
asserted  (p.  301)  that  no  Stoic  philosopher  had  ever  con- 
demned slavery.  So  far  as  we  know,  however,  this  is  the 
only  condemnation  of  that  institution  ever  uttered  by  any 
Pagan  thinker.  The  usual  Stoic  view  was  laid  down  by 
Chrysippus,  who  defined  the  slave  very  much  as  Carlyle 
does,  as  a  *' perpetuus  mercenarius" — a  man  **  hired  for 
life,"  from  whom  work  was  to  be  required,  a  just  return 
for  it  being  accorded  {operam  exegendam,justaproebenda). 
This  utterance  of  Epietetus,  as  of  one  who  knew  slavery 
from  within,  and  certainly  was  not  inclined  to  exaggerate 
its  discomforts,  is  noteworthy  enough. 

Chapter  V. 

1.  Administrator,  in  Latin,  Corrector—a,  State  officer  of 
whom  inscriptions,  etc.,  make  frequent  mention,  but  of 
whose  functions  not  much  appears  to  be  known  beyond 
what  the  present  chapter  of  Epietetus  reveals. 

2.  Cassiope  was  a  port  of  Epirus,  not  far  from  Nicopolis, 
where  Epietetus  taught.  Schw.  conjectures  that  Maxim  us 
was  sending  his  son  to  study  philosophy  at  Nicopolis 
under  Epietetus. 

3.  **  For  a  correct  view  of  these  matters  will  reduce 
every  movement  of  preference  and  avoidance  to  health  of 
body  and  tranquillity  of  soul ;  for  this  is  the  perfection  of 
a  happy  life." — Epicurus,  Diog.  Laert.  x.  128.  Epictetus's 
analysis  of  the  Epicurean  theory  amounts  to  this,  that  the 
pleasure  of  the  soul  is  the  chief  good,  but  that  it  is  only 
felt  through  the  body  and  its  conditions. 

4.  TJie  overseer  of  youth. — An  officer  in  certain  Greek 
cities.  See  Mahaffy's  Greek  Life  and  TJiought,  ch.  xvii., 
on  the  organization  of  the  ephebi. 

5.  Aid  in  the  works  that  are  according  to  Nature. — 
There  is  some  difference  of  opinion  among  commentators 
as  to  the  meaning.  Wolf  translates,  '*  hold  the  chief 
place  "  in  natural  w^orks.  Upton,  Schw.,  and  Long  render 
it  by  **keep  us  constant,"  **  sustain  us,"  in  such  works.  I 
do  not  see  why  we  should  not  take  the  word  in  its  plainest 
sense — that  pleasure  should  act  together  with  other  forces 
in  leading  us  to  do  well. 

Chapter  VII. 

1.  Zealous  for  evil  things. — Epietetus  must  mean  things 
which  they  know  to  be  evil — evil  things  as  evil.  It  was  a 
Socratic  doctrine  which  we  find  again  alluded  to  in  this 
chapter,  that  no  evil  is  ever  willingly  or  wittingly  done. 

2.  A  favorite  theme  of  later  Greek  and  of  Roman  comedy 
was  the  rivalship  in  love  of  a  father  and  a  son. 

3.  Admetus,  husband  of  Alcestis,  being  told  by  an  oracle 
that  his  wife  must  die  if  no  one  offered  himself  in  her 
stead,  thought  to  lay  the  obligation  on  his  father,  as  being 
an  old  man  with  but  few  more  years  to  live.    The  first 


200 


NOTES. 


NOTES. 


201 


Verse  quoted  is  from  the  Alcestia  of  Euripides ;  the  second 
is  not  found  in  any  extant  version  of  that  play. 

4.  Eteocles  and  Polyneices,  sons  of  GCdipus,  quarrelled 
"With  each  other  about  the  inheritance  of  their  father's 
kingdom.  Eteocles  having  gained  possession  of  it,  Poly- 
tieices  brought  up  the  famous  seven  kings,  his  allies, 
against  Thebes,  and  fell  in  battle  there  by  his  brother's 
hand,  whom  he  also  killed.  The  verses  quoted  are  from 
the  Phoenissce  of  Euripides. 

5.  Schweighauser  interprets  this  passage  to  mean  that 
these  men  occupy  the  public  places  as  wild  beasts  do  the 
Inountains,  to  prey  on  others.  The  passage  is  clearly  cor- 
rupt somewhere. 

6.  Polyneices  bribed  Eriphyle  with  the  gift  of  this  neck- 
lace to  persuade  her  unwilling  husband  to  march  with  him 
against  Thebes,  where  he  died. 

Chapter  VIII. 

1.  The  allusion  is  to  Odyssey,  v.  82-4.  **  But  he  was  sit- 
ting on  the  beach  and  weeping,  where  he  was  wont ;  and 
tormented  his  spirit  with  tears  and  groanings  and  woes, 
and  wept  as  he  gazed  over  the  barren  sea." 

2.  Let  him  pity. — See  Bk.  I.,  ch.  viii.,  note  3. 

Chapter  IX. 

1.  The  conflagration. — See  Preface  for  an  account  of 
the  Stoic  Doctrine  of  the  Weltverbrennung. 

2.  Long  suggests  that  the  words  translated  **  air  to  air  " 
might  be  equally  well  rendered  "spirit  to  spirit,"  thus 
finding  a  place  for  the  soul  in  this  enumeration  of  the  ele- 
ments of  man.  But  this  metaphysical  division  of  man's 
nature  into  a  spiritual  part  and  a  material  part  would  have 
been  wholly  contrary  to  Stoic  teaching,  which  admitted  no 
existence  that  was  not  material.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  if 
any  of  the  terms  in  this  enumeration  is  to  be  understood  as 
meaning  soul  or  spirit,  it  will  be  fire  rather  than  air. 

3.  Gods  and  Powers.    Tlieon  Kai  Daimonon. 

Chapter  X. 

1.  To  strangle  lions  or  embrace  statues, — Hercules  did 
the  former,  and  ostentatious  philosophers  sometimes  did 
the  latter  in  winter-time,  by  way  of  showing  their  power 
of  endurance. 

2.  TJie  stamp  of  Nero. — I  believe  there  is  no  other 
record  than  this  of  any  rejection  of  Nero's  coins,  and  those 
which  have  come  down  to  us  are  of  perfectly  good  quality. 
He  was  declared  a  public  enemy  by  the  Senate,  and  possi- 
bly it  was  decreed  at  the  same  time  that  his  coins  should 
be  withdrawn  from  circulation.  Dion,  quoted  by  Wise 
{apud  Schw^eighauser),  reports  that  this  was  done  in  the 
case  of  Caligula,  after  the  death  of  that  tyrant. 

3.  Lions  at  home,  hut  in  Ephesus  foxes. — **A  proverb 


about  the  Spartans,  who  were  defeated  in  Asia/*  notes  the 
Scholiast  on  Aristoph.  Pac,  1188-90. 

BOOK  IV. 
Chapter  II. 

1.  A  or  can  I  move  withcmt  thy  knowledge.^From 
Homer,  H.  x.  279,  280,  Odysseus  to  Athene. 

2.  The  genius  of  each  man.    Ton  ekastou  Daimona. 

Chapter  III. 

1.  A  way  wherein  to  tiJaZA;.— Literally,  the  power  of 
using  a  way.  It  seems  to  me  likely  that  this  term,  way, 
here  signifies  the  Stoic  philosophy,  just  as  in  the  early 
Church  it  was  used  to  signify  Christianity  (e.  g.,  Acts 
xxii.  4,  and  xix.  9,  23). 

Chapter  IV. 

1.  Nor  have  any  object  in  themselves.-— ResLders  of 
Lotze  will  be  reminded  of  the  term  Ftirsichseinheit, 
used  by  him  to  denote  the  self-centred  quality  of  true 
Being.  The  Greek  here  is  the  word  used  in  Bk.  I.  viii. 
13,  and  Bk.  III.  v.  6,  for  the  leading  objects  or  obliga- 
tions of  man. 

2.  Would  that  I  had  you  with  me  .'—In  Long's  transla- 
tion the  pronoun  you  is  explained  to  mean  God.  I  can 
see  no  reason  for  this  interpretation.  The  words  are.  I 
think,  supposed  to  be  uttered  by  a  disciple  to  his  mas- 
ter :  they  are  such  as  Epictetus  may  have  heard  from 
many  of  his  own  disciples  as  they  left  him  to  take  their 
part  in  the  world  of  action. 

3.  Cautious  assent— i.e.,  caution  in  allowing  oneself 
to  entertain  the  impressions  of  appearances. 

Chapter  V. 

1.  The  strong  and  growing  yearning  for  some  direct, 
personal  revelation  of  God,  some  supernatural  manifes- 
tation of  His  existence  and  care  for  men,  is  noted  by 
Zeller  as  a  special  trait  of  Hellenistic  times.  Such  a 
revelation  must  have  been  longed  for  by  many  as  the 
only  satisfying  answer  to  the  destructive  logic  of  the 
Pyrrhonists,  and  men's  minds  were  also  of  course  led 
that  way  by  the  insistence  of  the  Stoic  thinkers 
upon  the  communion  of  the  individual  with  God,  as 
the  most  important  of  all  possible  relations.  Hence 
the  growth  of  many  wild  and  orgiastic  cults  at  this 
epoch — all  based  on  the  state  of  ecstasy  connected 
with  their  rites,  which  was  ascribed  to  supernatural  in- 
fluence. With  the  Stoics  this  movement  took  the  com- 
paratively sober  shape  of  attention  to  the  established 
system  of  oracular  divination.    Zeller,  however,  shows 


202 


NOTES. 


that  some  Stoics  were  disposed  to  rationalize  the  revela- 
tions of  the  oracles  by  supposing  a  certain  sympathy  be- 
tween the  mind  of  the  seer  and  the  future  events  whicli 
led  to  the  unconscious  selection  of  means  of  divination 
which  would  exhibit  the  proper  signs.— (Z.  339,  340.) 
Epictetus  evidently  thought  more  of  God's  revelation  in 
the  conscience  than  any  other. 

2.  The  story  is  told  by  Siniplicius  In  his  commentary 
on  this  chapter.  Two  friends,  journeying  together  to 
'  inquire  of  the  oracle  at  Delphi,  were  set  upon  by  rob- 
bers ;  one  of  them  resisted,  and  was  murdered,  the 
other  either  fled  or  made  no  effort  on  his  companion's 
behalf.  Arriving  at  the  temple  of  Apollo,  he  was 
greeted  with  the  following  deliverance  of  the  oracle  : — 

"  Thou  saw'st  thy  friend  all  undefended  die- 
Foul  with  that  sin,  from  Phoebus'  temple  fly." 

BOOK  V. 
Chapter  I. 

1.  Simplicius  explains  that  the  oath  was  to  be  refused, 
because  to  call  God  to  witness  in  any  m.^rely  human  and 
earthly  interest  implies  a  want  of  reverence  towards 
Him  ;  but  that  if  there  was  a  question  of  pledging  one's 
faith  on  behalf  of  friends,  or  parents,  or  country,  it  was 
not  improper  to  add  the  confirmation  of  an  oath. 

2.  Upton  quotes  allusions  to  these  recitations  from  Juve- 
nal, Martial,  and  Pliny.  Authors  would  read  their  own 
works  and  invite  crowds  of  flatterers  to  attend.  Epict. 
Diss.  iii.  23  (Schweighaiiser),  is  a  scornful  diatribe 
against  the  pretentious  people  who  held  forth  on  these 
occasions,  and  the  people  who  assembled  to  hear  and 
applaud  them.  He  contrasts  with  fashionable  reciters 
and  lecturers  his  own  master,  Rufus.  **Rufus  was 
wont  to  say,  I  speak  to  no  purposCy  if  ye  have  time 
to  praise  me.  And,  verily,  he  spoke  in  such  a  way  that 
every  man  who  sat  there  thought  that  some  one  had 
accused  him  to  Rufus,  he  so  handled  all  that  was  going  on, 
he  so  set  before  each  man's  eyes  his  faults." 

3.  Into  vulgarity. — Eis  idioiismon. 

Chapter  II. 
1.  The  sophism,  or  puzzle,  called  the  Liar,  ran  thus  :— 
A  liar  says  he  lies  :  if  it  is  true,  he  is  no  liar  ;  and  if  he 
lies,  he  is  speaking  truth.  The  Quiescent  was  an  invention 
attributed  by  Cicero  to  Chrysippus  (Acad.  ii.  29).  When 
asked  of  a  gradually-increasing  number  of  things  to  say 
when  they  ceased  to  be  few  and  became  many,  he  was 
wont  to  cease  replying,  or  be  "  quiescent,"  shortly  before 
the  limit  was  reached— a  device  which  we  have  some  diffi- 
culty in  regarding  as  a  fair  example  of  Chrysippus's  con- 
tributions to  the  science  of  logic.  For  the  master  sophism 
sec  Bk.  II.  chap,  i.,  note  1. 


NOTES. 


208 


3.  Plato,  Laws,  ix  .— **  When  any  of  such  opinions  visit 
thee,  go  to  the  purifying  sacrifices,  go  and  pray  in  the 
temples  of  the  protecting  Gods,  go  to  the  society  of  men 
whom  thou  hast  heard  of  as  good  ;  and  now  hear  from 
others,  now  say  for  thine  own  part,  that  it  behoves  every 
man  to  hold  in  regard  the  things  that  are  honorable  and 
righteous.  But  from  the  company  of  evil  men,  fly  without 
a  look  behind.  And  if  in  doing  these  things  thy  disease 
give  ground,  well;  but  if  not,  hold  death  the  better 
choice,  and  depart  from  life." 

3.  The  true  athlete.— LiteraWy,  ascetic  ;  i.  e.,  practiser. 

4.  The  Dioscuri,  or  Twins,  Castor  and  Pollux,  were  the 
patron  deities  of  saflors. 

Chapter  VI. 

1.  If  viewed  disjunctively,— That  is,  if  we  say,  It  is  day, 
or,  It  is  night.  This  is  a  difficult  chapter,  and  full  of  cor- 
ruptions. The  feast  alluded  to  is,  doubtless,  the  feast  of 
life,  where  the  Gods  are  the  hosts. 

Chapter  VII. 

1.  Winter  training.— Such  as  the  Roman  troops  under- 
went when  in  winter-quarters.  They  were  accustomed  to 
exercise  themselves  with  arms  of  double  the  normal  weight, 
and  prepare  themselves  by  marching,  running,  leaping,etc., 
for  active  service. 

Chapter  XII. 

1.  The  Pancratium  was  a  contest  in  which  boxing  and 
wrestling  were  both  allowable.  For  the  Pentathlon,  see 
Bk.  II.  chap,  xvii.,  note  8. 

Chapter  XVI. 

1.  This  means,  apparently,  that  the  judgment  has  no 
right  to  do  more  than  endorse  the  deliverances  of  the  per- 
ceptive faculty.  If  a  man  commits  any  error,  he  does  it 
under  the  conviction  that  it  is  in  some  wav  for  his  profit  or 
satisfaction  ;  that  is,  that  there  is  somethmg  of  the  nature 
of  the  Good  in  it.  He  may  be  mistaken  in  this  ;  but  so 
long  as  he  does  not  know  where  Good  and  Evil  really  lie, 
he  can  do  no  other  than  he  does.  The  true  course,  then' 
for  the  philosopher  is  not  to  condemn  him  for  his  actions] 
but  to  show  him  the  fundamental  error  from  which  they 
proceed.  The  expression,  ''  assent,"  is  that  used  by  Epic 
tetus  in  II.  vi.,  etc.,  where  he  speaks  of  the  mind  as  being 
imposed  on,  or  taken  captive,  by  the  outward  shows  of 


things. 


Chapter  XX. 


1.  The  Greek  means,  literally,  to  fashion  with  joints, 
hence  constitute  organically,  with  interdependence  of 
parts.    Long  translates  **  analyze." 


m 


NOTES. 


2.  Modiu8.—A  measure  of  about  two  gallons. 

3.  Antisthenes,  about  400  B.C.,  founder  of  the  Cynic 
school,  which  was  established  by  him  in  the  gymnasium 
called  the  Cynosarges  (hence  the  name).  As  a  Cynic, 
his  authority  would,  of  course,  be  respected  by  the  hear- 
ers of  Epictetus.  This  investigation  of  terms,  or  names, 
is,  indeed,  the  beginning  of  philosophy  and  the  guide  to 
truth  in  any  sphere,  but  perhaps  not  every  one  is  compe- 
tent to  undertake  it.  There  must  be  a  real  and  not  mere- 
ly a  formal  appreciation  of  the  contents  of  each  term.  A 
primrose  is  one  thing  to  Peter  Bell  and  another  to 
Wordsworth.  The  term,  let  us  say,  Duty,  is  one  thing 
to  a  Herbert  Spencer  and  another  to  a  Kant. 

Chapter  XXII. 

1.  **  My  friends  fly  all  culture,"  is  an  injunction  re- 
ported of  Epicurus.— (ZH'ogr.  L,  x.  6.)  However,  neglect 
of  form  in  literaiy  style  was  a  characteristic  of  all 
philosophic  writers  of  the  Hellenistic  period,  and  was  by 
no  means  confined  to  the  Epicureans. 

2.  This  passage  is  corrupt.  I  followed  the  reading 
adopted  by  Schweighauser  (after  Wolf) ;  but  it  may  be 
noted  that  Schweighauser's  translation  follows  another 
reading  than  that  which  he  adopts  in  his  text,  viz., 
being  moved,  instead  of  being  strained.  The  original 
in  all  versions,  makes  no  sense  at  all.— See  Preface,  xxiii. 

3.  The  writings  enumerated  are,  of  course,  works  of 
Epicurus.  When  dying,  he  wrote  in  a  letter  to  a  friend 
(Diog.  L.  X.  22)  that  he  was  spending  a  happy  day,  and 
his  last. 

4.  Chrysippus  held  that  many  things  in  the  Kosmos 
were  created  for  their  beauty  alone.— ZeZZer,  171. 

5.  There  is  another  short  chapter  on  the  arts  of  ratioci- 
nation and  expression  (I.  viii.  Schw.),  which  glances  at 
the  subject  from  a  somewhat  different  point  of  view 
from  that  taken  in  the  chapter  which  I  have  given. 
There  Epictetus  dwells  chiefly  on  the  danger  that  weak 
spirits  should  lose  themselves  in  the  fascination  of  these 
arts:  *'For,  in  general,  in  every  faculty  acquired  by 
the  uninstructed  and  feeble  there  is  danger  lest  they  be 
elated  and  puffed  up  through  it.  For  how  could  one 
contrive  to  persuade  a  young  man  who  excels  in  such 
things  that  he  must  not  be  an  appendage  to  them,  but 
make  them  an  appendage  to  him  ? 

Chapter  XXVI. 

1.  The  first  of  these  quotations  is  from  the  Stoic 
Cleanthes,  the  second  from  a  lost  play  of  Euripides  ;  in 
the  third  Epictetus  has  joined  together  two  sayings  of 
Socrates,  one  from  the  Crito  and  one  from  the  Apologia. 
Anytus  and  Meletus  were  the  principal  accusers  of  Soc- 
rates in  the  trial  which  ended  in  his  sentence  to  death. 


It 


If 


NOTES  ON  PHILOSOPHIC  TERMS  USED 

Br  EPICTETUS. 


[I  give  under  this  head  only  those  terms  the  exact  force  of 
which  may  not  be  apparent  to  the  reader  in  a 

mere  translation.] 

Aidemon. — Pious,  reverent,  modest.  The  substantive  is 
Aidds,  the  German  Ehrfurcht  (Wilhelm  Meister, 
.  Wanderjahre,  Bk.  II.  ch.  ii.),  a  virtue  in  high  regard 
with  Epictetus,  who  generally  mentions  it  in  connec- 
tion with  that  of  **  faithfulness/'  Pistis.  In  Words- 
worth's poem,  **  My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold  a 
rainbow  in  the  sky,"  the  ''natural  piety"  which  he 
prays  may  abide  with  him  in  his  old  age  seems  to  be 
just  that  moral  sensitiveness  or  AidOs,  which  passes 
into  reverence  and  worship  in  the  presence  of  certain 
things,  and  into  shame  and  dread  in  that  of  others. 

Apatheia.— Peace— 'that  is,  peace  from  passions,  Pathe, 
Pathos  was  any  affection  of  the  mind  causing  joy  or 
grief.  As  it  appears  from  Bk.  II.  iii.  1.,  Apatheia  is 
not,  in  Epictetus,  the  state  of  absolute  freedom  from 
these  passions,  but  that  of  being  able  to  master  them 
so  that  they  shall  not  overwhelm  the  inner  man. 

DiarthrOtikos.— That  which  organizes,  constitutes  organ- 
ically, forms  into  a  system.  From  Arthron,  a  joint. 
The  word  **  analyze,"  by  which  Long  translates  diar- 
throun,  seems  to  me  wanting  in  the  formative  sense 
expressed  by  the  original. 

Dogma.— An  opinion,  that  which  seems  (dokein)  true; 
generally  in  the  special  sense  of  a  philosophic  dogma. 

Euroein,— To  prosper  ;  litisrally,  to  flow  freely.  Euroia, 
prosperity.    A  common  Stoic  phrase  for  a  happy  life. 

Eusebeia,— Religion,  piety.  Sehomai,  *' to  feel  awe  or 
fear  before  God  and  man,  especially  when  about  to  do 
something  disgraceful "  (Liddell  and  Scott);  to  wor- 
ship, respect,  reverence. 


m 


NOfSS. 


Hegemonihon.^The  Ruling  Faculty— that  in  a  inali 
which  chooses,  determines,  takes  cognizance  of  good 
and  evil,  and  sways  the  inferior  faculties  (Dvriajneis 
Powers)  to  its  will.  Lotze  notes  this  hegemonic  qual- 
ity in  the  human  soul  as  that  which  distinguishes  it 
from  the  bundle  of  sensations  into  which  the  Associa- 
tion Philosophy  would  resolve  it. 

Thaumazein. — To  admire,  be  dazzled  with  admiration  by, 
to  worship,  to  be  taken  up  with  a  thing  so  as  to  lose 
the  power  of  cool  judgment.  A  frequent  word  in 
Epictetus,  the  sense  of  which  is  precisely  rendered  in 
Hor.  Sat.  1,  4,  28,  **Hunc  capit  argenti  splendor, 
stupet  Albius  aere." 

Idiotes. — One  of  the  vulgar,  an  unlettered  person;  in  Epic- 
tetus, one  uninstructed  in  philosophy.  Originally  the 
word  meant  one  who  remained  in  private  life,  not  fill- 
ing any  public  office,  or  taking  part  in  State  aifairs. 
A  man  might  be  an  idiotes,  or  *' layman,"  with 
respect  to  any  branch  of  science  or  art. 

Kdlos  kai  Agathos. — The  good  and  wise  man — literally, 
beautiful  and  good.  A  standing  phrase  to  denote  the 
perfection  of  human  character.  Kalos  is  a  word  some- 
times difficult  to  render.  Curtius  connects  it  etymo- 
logically  with  Sanscrit,  kalyas;  Gothic,  hails,= 
healthy. 

O^sfs.—**  Conceit  "—defined  by  Cicero  as  **  Opinatio  " — 
intellectual  self-sufficiency,  the  supposing  oneself  to 
know  something  when  one  does  not.  '*The  first 
business  of  a  philosopher,"  says  Epictetus,  **  is  to  cast 
away  Diesis,  for  it  is  impossible  that  one  can  begin  to 
learn  the  things  that  he  thinks  he  knows  "  (Diss.  II. 
xvii.  1).  He  Is  not,  in  short,  to  be  **  wise  in  his  own 
conceit." 


OrexiSy  Ekklisis,  Orme,  4p^orme.— Pursuit,  Avoidance, 
Desire,  Aversion.  According  to  Simplicius  (Com- 
ment. Ench,  i.),  Orexis  and  Ekklisis  were  used  by 
the  Stoics  to  express  the  counterparts  in  outward 
action  of  the  mental  affections,  Orme  and  Aphorme, 
and  were  regarded  as  consequent  upon  the  latter. 

Proairesis.—ThQ  Will ;  but  as  used  in  Epictetus,  this 
word  implies  much  more  than  the  mere  faculty  of 
volition.  Literally,  it  means  a  choosing  of  one 
thing  before  another ;  in  Epictetus,  the  power  of 
deli^rately  resolving  or  purposing,  the  exercise  of 
the  reflective  faculty  being  implied.  It  is  hardly  to 
be  distinguished  from  Hegevionikon, 

iVoZ^psm.— "Natural  Conceptions."  See  Preface,  xxviii.. 


NOTES. 


207 


xxix.     The  ** primary  truths"  of  Lord  Herbert  of 
Cherbury, 

Sugkatatiihesthai, — To  assent  to  or  acquiesce  in  any- 
thing, to  ratify  by  the  judgment  the  emotions  pro- 
duced by  external  things  or  events,  such  as  the 
sense  of  dread,  or  pleasure,  or  reprobation,  which 
they  arouse  in  us.  To  be  on  one's  guard  against  the 
hasty  yielding  of  this  assent  is  one  of  Epictetus's 
main  injunctions  to  the  aspirant  in  philosophy. 

Tarassesthai. — To  be  troubled.  Ataraxia,  tranquillity. 
Tarassein  is  primarily  to  stir  up,  confuse,  throw 
into  disorder. 

Fhaniasia. — An  Appearance ;  with  the  Stoics,  any 
mental  impression  as  received  by  the  perceptive 
faculty  before  the  Reason  has  pronounced  upon  it,  a 
bare  Perception. 


INDEX  OF  KEFEEENCES. 


rrhe  references  in  the  right-hand  column  are  to  the 
books,  chapters,  and  verses  of  the  Dissertations,  to  the 
chapters  of  the  Encheiridion,  and  to  the  Fragments,  in 
Schweighauser's  edition  of  Epictetus.] 


Chap.  I.  1 

**      «'  2-5  - 

Chap.  II 

Chap.  III. 

Chap.  IV.  1  - 

"        *'    2  - 

it       <«    3  - 

Chap.  V. 

Chap.  VI. 

Chap.  VII.  1,  2 

i«         **    3  - 
II         «<    4.5 

it         <«    7  . 

*«         **    8  - 

Chap.  VIII.  - 


Chap.  I. 
Chap.  II.  1       - 
*•      '*    2,3 

a        *'     4 

"      "    5, 6 

•*      "    7, 8 

Chap.  III.  1,  2 

44         a    3 

•'  4,5 
Chap.  IV.  1,  2 
Chap.  V.  1-3 

a  **    4 

"       *<   5 

Chap.  VI.  1     - 
**        '*   2     - 
Chap.  VII.  1-3 
Chap.  VIII.  1 
**    2-5 


BOOK  I. 


Frag.  m. 
Diss.  II.  xi.  1-25. 
Diss.  I.  xxii.  1-16. 
Diss.  I.  i.  1-17. 
Diss.  III.  iii.  1-4. 
Diss.  I.  xxix.  1-4. 
Diss.  I.  XXV.  1-6. 
Ench.  I. 
Diss.  II.  xiv. 
Ench.  II. 
Diss.  I.  XV.  7,  8. 
Diss.  II.  ix.  1-12. 
Frag.  LXXII. 
Diss.  III.  xiii.  20-23. 
Diss.  III.  xxii. 


BOOK   II. 


Diss.  II.  xix. 
Frag.  LXIX. 
Diss.  II.  V.  1-9. 
Diss.  II.  xvi.  15. 
Diss.  II.  vi.  9-19. 
Diss.  II.  V.  10-20. 
Ench.  III.,  IV. 
Diss.  III.,  xix. 
Ench.  v.,  VI. 
Diss.  III.  ii.  1-10. 
Diss.  II.  i.  1-20. 
Diss.  III.  xxiv.  94. 
Diss.  II.  i.  21-29. 
Frag.  CLXXX. 
Diss.  III.  iii.  20-22. 
Diss.  I.  xxvii. 
Diss.  I.  ix.  1-8. 
Diss,  III,  xxvi.  1-36, 


INDEX  OF  REFERENCES. 


209 


Chap.  IX.  1  - 

**    2  - 

«        "    3  - 

Chap.  X.  1-4  - 

"      **   5-6  - 

a        **    7 

•*      "  8 
Chap.  XI. 
Chap.  XII.      - 
Chap.  XIII.  1,  2 
Chap.  XIII.  3-7 
Chap.  XIV.     - 
Chap.  XV.      . 
Chap.  XVI.    - 
Chap.  XVII. 
Chap.  XVIII.  1,2 

«         <«       4 

Chap.  XIX.     - 
Chap.  XX.  1 
"     2 
Chap.  XXL    - 
Chap.  XXII. 
Chap.  XXIII. 
Chap.  XXIV. 
Chap.  XXV. 
Chap.  XXVI. 
Chap.  XXVII. 


Chap.  I. 
Chap.  II.  1.  2 

Chap.  III.  1-9 
Chap.  IV.  1    - 
*'    2,3 
Chap.  V. 
Chap.  VI.  1    - 
**    2    - 
**        **    3    - 
Chap.  VII.      - 
Chap.  VIII.  1-10 
44      11 
44      12 
Chap.  IX.  1.  2 
**        **    3    - 
<<        <*    4    . 

Chap.  X.  1  - 
"  "  2  - 
"  "  3-5  - 
«      "6      - 

w      «    7      . 


Diss.  I.  ix.  10-18. 
Diss.  I.  XXV.  14-20. 
Diss.  I.  xxix.  29. 
Diss.  I.  xix.  1-17. 
Diss.  IV.  vii.  12-18. 
Diss.  I.  xviii.  17. 
Diss.  IV.  vii.  19-24. 
Diss.  I.  xviii,  1-16. 
Ench.  VII. 
Ench.  VIII. -IX. 
Diss.  II.  xvi.  24-47. 
Ench.  X. 
Ench.  XI. 
Ench.  XII. 
Ench.  XIII. 
Ench.  XIV. 
Diss.  I.  XXV.  22-25. 
Ench.  XV. 
Ench.  XVI. 
Ench.  XVII. 
Diss.  IV.  X.  9-17. 
Ench.  XVIII.-XXI. 
Ench.  XXII.,  XXIII. 
Ench.  XXIV. 
Ench.  XXV. 
Ench.  XXVI.,  XXVn. 
Ench.  XXVIII, 
Ench.  XXIX. 


BOOK  III. 


Ench.  XXX. 
Diss.  I.  xxiii. 
Diss.  II.  V.  24-30. 
Diss.  II.  XX.  1-27. 
Diss.  I.  xiii. 
Frag.  XLIII.,  XLIV. 
Diss.  III.  vii. 
Frag.  LXXXII. 
Frag.  XLV. 
Frag.  LXVII. 
Diss.  II.  xxii. 
Diss.  III.  xxiv.  1-49. 
"      **      **      68-63. 
"      "      "      88-93. 
Diss.  III.  xiii.  1-17. 
Frag.  CLXXVI. 
Diss.  III.  xiii.  18,  19. 
Frag.  LXX. 
Diss.  IV.  V.  1-4. 
**      "    "8-21. 
"      "    **  30-32. 
''      "    "33,35-37, 


210 


INDEX  OF  REFERENCES. 


BOOK  IV. 


Chap.  I. 
Chap.  II.  1,  2 
*•      '•    3,4 
Chnp.  HI. 
Chai».  IV.  1,  2 

'*        "    4-8 
Chap.  V. 


Chap.  I.  1-5     - 

**      **  6 

•*      "  7-16    - 
Chap.  II.  1-4    - 

**      "    5,  6 

Chap.  III.  1,  2 
**    3,4 

Chap.  IV. 

Chap.  V. 

Chap.  VI. 

Chap.  VII.  1   - 
*•        '*     2  - 

Chap.  VIII.    - 

Chap.  IX. 

Chap.  X. 

Chap.  XI. 

Chap.  XII.  1  - 
"  '*  2  - 
"  "  3, 4 
«        "     5  - 

Chap.  XIII.    - 

Chap.  XIV.     - 

Chap.  XV.      - 

Chap.  XVI.  1,  2 
*•  **    8  - 

Chap.  XVII.  - 
Chap.  XVIII. 
Chap.  XIX.    - 
Chap.  XX.  1   - 

"        * '    2-4 
Chap.  XXI.     - 
Chap.  XXII.  1,  2 

'*         «•        3-7 
Chap.  XXIII. 
Chap.  XXIV. 
Chap.  XXV. 
Chap.  XXVI. 


Ench.  XXXI. 
Diss.  I.  xii.  1-7. 
Diss.  I.  xiv.  1-17. 
Diss.  I.  xvi. 
Diss.  II.  viii.  1-8. 
Diss.  I.  vi.  13-22. 
Diss.  II.  viii.  9-29. 
Ench.  XXXII. 


BOOK  V. 


Eiicli.  XXXIII.  1-6. 
Diss.  III.  xvi.  5-9. 
Ench.  XXXIII.  7-16. 
Diss.  II.  xviii.  1-21. 
Diss.  II.  xviii.  23-32. 
Diss.  IV.  xii.  19-21. 
Diss.  II.  xii.  1-4. 

*'     **      **     17-25 
Ench.  XXXIV. 
Ench.  XXXV. 
Ench.  XXXVI. 
Ench.  XXXVII. 
Diss.  I.  xi.  30-32. 
Ench.  XXXVIII. 
Ench.  XXXIX. 
Ench.  XL. 
Ench.  XLI. 
Diss.  III.  i.  1-9. 

««      **    **  40-44. 

Diss.  IV.  xi.  22-29. 

**      "     "    35,36. 
Ench.  XLII. 
Ench.  XLIII. 
Ench.  XLIV. 
Ench.  XLV. 
Diss.  I.  XXVIII.  1-9. 

"     ''        **         11-25. 
Ench.  XLVI. 
Ench.  XLVII. 
Ench.  XLVIII. 
Diss.  I.  xvii.  1,  2. 

'*     **     **    4-12. 
Ench.  XLIX. 
Diss.  II.  xxiii.  1-10. 

**      <*      «*     20-47. 

Ench.  L. 
Ench.  U. 
Ench.  LII. 
Ench.  LIIL 


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